Collapse
by Bun800
Summary: To overthrow the Quincies all things must collapse. Reawakened and healed, Grimmjow and Nelliel have one mission other than to take out the king—find Halibel. Battling sins and enemies, not all goes according to plan. Slight AU, Based from the Arrancar/Blood-war Arc.
1. Prologue: All things collapse

_**Hello all! I hope you enjoy my new work, Collapse! It's based from the Blood-war arc and relates to the actual storyline of Bleach (more-or-less after chapter 635), but goes back to the disappearance of our favorite Espadas from the Arrancar arc. Let me know what you think, I worked hard on it :)**_

* * *

 _We all felt it . . . The moment Ulquiorra died._

Sketched out among the sands as a mangled figure drawing, a wracked form laid punished by the position death had left him in.

For how long the dunes cradled his scarred corpse was void.

The skirmish between Nnoitora than that demonic _Shinigami_ ended hours ago. Starrk stole the girl, the enemy stealing off in an attempt to stop Aizen. He'd been left in the past with Nnoitora's rancid bones.

A burning swell and upturn of power made his undead eyes blare open. Fizzling out, the sensation was alien, staining the cosmos which made up Las Noches. Ash rested among their world, drifting into nothingness. The ethereal lust was like a god falling.

 _The realization for more power . . . the unleashed potential . . . that was the most painful part._

A mutilated howl escaped somewhere within the sands, slipping in and out.

Silhouettes vaporized before him, then disappeared. His lashes shut out the world, weakness devouring him.

It was half a memory, hardly a dream.

 _Aizen never returned._

 _It wasn't as if Hueco Mundo would collapse without Aizen's guidance. It was almost as if he never appeared in the first place. His place never mattered to me._

 _Not until the Quincies showed up._

Faded turquoise eyes beheld three creatures, two shaking uncontrollably as they held onto one another before the _Sexta_ , the child in front like a protective shield, looking down at him solemnly. She knew he was dying.

"M-Master Nel—!"

"Please, you can't!"

Wise beyond her years Nel spoke softly. " _It's what Itsugo would do_."

* * *

 **Bleach (c) TK!**


	2. Part I

**Not wanting to disrupt the prologue with a long ramble, I wrote this story because I wanted to work with the different characters of Grimmjow and Nel. Both are interesting in their own right and I felt this story needed to be told _because_ of how unique and valuable I think the two ex-Espadas are. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Rogues_

The first thing she noticed was where he hid the body.

Cold, unseen, within the darkness of night, it was somewhere only Death understood, or one who had succumbed to it. One would always be able to find the dead if pursued amongst the shadows. Yet she must never ignore the glaring swag it occasionally passed in daylight. Death would heist an unsuspecting life as much as one prepared for him. It was something to be remembered. She had been trained well under Aizen's tutelage.

The unmarked gravesite was really the first time she ever felt an actual chill, cold fear bringing decrepit friends as the unopened tomb scattered misery from its callused awning. The arrogant veil soaked deep into her _heirro_ , feeling a parallel power before her as she moved forward. The home was deserted, pillars stark in color and crumbling under its own weight. If her armor wasn't nearly as skintight she would not have made it through the hairline gap which she split barehanded. Opening the crypt's center allowed his weakening reiatsu to seep through, homing in on the were-cat like a beacon.

He was hung like raw meat on a hook by the snag in his collar, frost parting the tangled sea of light-colored hair before his unopened eyes. Curiously he was abandoned without care, a feast forgotten though his " _gift_ " was ominously present.

Unmoving and unaware as the sword shredded through the jagged icicle, the _Sexta_ was swept from the frozen casket, lifeless and flushed by venom only a grim reaper could induce.

With a step away from darkness into the light of dawn, a _sonído_ severed reality and the woman vanished, the male in her arms nothing more than an unfortunate child, comatose by parasitic illness. A network of ideas passed by, the next step necessary to hurry the progression of Kisuke Urahara's plans.

The conflict would climax within days. Without another warrior to fight the battle was nigh.

Nel had to hurry.

* * *

The vigor darkness held over him was something astonishing. Never to admit something so trivial or idealistic outside his mind, its company was a comfort missing long since his lonely ascendance after Aizen's withdrawal.

A deep sigh rumbled somewhere in the darkness. Abdicated by their thrones thanks to the Quinces loud " _reformation_ ," Hueco Mundo would never reach the heightened glory Las Noches' palace subdued ever more.

And thanks to _this_ particularly damaging Quincy, he might finally die. The darkness he'd been absorbing for some time now possessed him with sickening splendor. The _infection_ was growing rapidly within. The poison affected him more than he thought possible, especially to a being _supposedly_ able to counteract the Quincies abilities.

Without an antidote he was done.

And there it was again, the sound. It was a sigh, melancholic and shrill as a gasp for air.

His eyes barely opened as he came back into consciousness.

It didn't take long for the child's face to reappear in his vision, blob-like tears spilling from her eyes and muddling her small pink cheeks as they fell onto his face, drenched by the assailment. The girl began to hiccup annoyingly.

The only problem he realized too late was that he _was_ drenched. Last he remembered he'd been taken down by that running flamboyant coward, tumbling and losing all sensitivity. Possibly sweat? Melting icicles?

 _Or_ —

And all at once he was _slimed_.

Live electric eyes burst before his rival. Never before had Grimmjow Jeagerjacques screamed in such shock since his reincarnation. The clear slobber had obviously ruined his iconic 'do.

"YOU'RE _ALIVE_!" the child screeched with joy.

"Get _AWAY_ from me, brat!" he scolded as he sadistically shoved the girl away.

Without a chance for true weeping, Nelliel tu Odelschvank touched the crank on her bracelet and popped back into her older, mature form. Green hair the color of a peridot gem reached the ground from her kneeled position, her child-like body refigured by the shapes and attributes given to a grown woman. She wore dark mail for protection, curves streamlined with light grey fabric to enhance speed, ruffles of animal fur covering her skin like an extra _hierro_. There was a smirk on her lips, smiling eyes hidden beneath the shadow of her ram's mask. "What? Would you have wanted a kiss from a fair maiden instead?"

"Beats gettin' puked on!"

Ripping off his white half-jacket, he beat it against the air in an attempt to cleanse it. Until it was dry and he felt less disgusted, Grimmjow rapidly snapped it through his hair and over his face and neck. The vileness he felt toward the woman was infectious, yet Nel eyed him without scorn. Truly it was fun to tease the _Sexta_ , an overzealous sigh falling from her lips. "What else was I to do? Let you suffer? Your reiatsu _reeked_ with that Quincy's poison. I was merely trying to revive you."

Grimmjow said something under his breath, indecipherable curses and crude in tongue. The form-fitting black bodysuit he adorned was different without the jacket, custom-made and appealed better to his dangerous persona. Without completely forgetting the _wardrobe_ of a former Espada, the curved half-moon scar round his neck exposed itself against his _hierro_ , the open V showcasing the larger, older burn splayed across his chest. He wore them as reminders of his past, reminders to push forward. His body had been repainted so many times it was hard to distinguish which served as his proper flesh and which simply detailed the flaws he made as one of Aizen's " _elite_."

Grimmjow stuffed his arms through the sleeves in an attempt to recollect himself, fixing his jacket so he might appear his usual outer calm, laid-back self.

Only on the inside was he steaming with murder.

She folded her arms in fake self-importance. Nel said, "You were nearly frozen to death in that tomb I found you in. It's no wonder you're soaked to the bone." He didn't seem to hear her. Nel added, "You ran off and got yourself poisoned by that Quincy. Without me you'd still be unconscious in that shack he stored you in. You're alive because of me."

" _DON'T_ make me owe you _another_ debt, _Nelliel_ ," Grimmjow snarled, and their eyes met, a turquoise stone against an earthen hazel.

He turned, knowing— _hating_ her for saving his life.

Grimmjow leapt from their secluded wasteland, allowing his _sonído_ to remove him from their crippled surroundings and on to higher ground in one blink. The pedestal found soared above the land and revealed what was left of the Holy world, stretching the distance into the heart of it all—the Quincies erotic fortress. The land shimmered like one imperfect crystal. Daylight against the frozen white world blinded any onlooker from seeing into the palace clearly, even with the best of vision. Being blind had its perks however. Grimmjow knew it would be an advantage to their party. The double-edged sword created invisibility in _his_ favor, rushing to the pulpit and slaying this damned Quincy king before the day would end.

The click of heels hitting the cold dais behind him meant he had been followed by an unwanted shadow. "How did you find me?" his words harsh like a storm.

Nel put a hand on Gamuza's hilt. "I can find you no matter where you go. You may not like it, but it's better than putting a collar on you." The fluctuation of reiatsu from him teetered between rage and annoyance. As she neared his side, there was almost strife in his tone.

"Why did you help me?"

Nel was just as expressive in her adult form as she normally was as a child. Her large eyes round in surprise, confusion pulling her lips into a wondering pout. The question was like rolling mist—elusive but eye opening. "Hm?"

Grimmjow repeated the question, commenting in a sarcastic tone if she was deaf.

Nel patronized the beast as he did, standing firm. "I am immune to toxins. I believe that is why Lord Aizen kept me close. So he would have a soldier to keep fighting. Even if they were thrown from existence," she ended in a soft mutter.

Grimmjow sneered. "Not that, Nelliel. We're risking everything to help Kurosaki and his crew. We listen to that _quack_ for so long and then what? Halibel's already _dead_. We're just here to clean up the mess they've made in our world. What's in it for you?"

She was quiet as she watched the jaguar's actions. He was mad for different reasons. She was just the misguided target for his current damnation. Then she spoke.

"Don't you get it? We're the last of the Vasto Lorde. We're a _dying_ breed. And you are a valuable warrior."

There was dry laughter. "We will never die," Grimmjow spoke evenly.

She stood at his side, looking out into the enemy's territory. The world was a silent sepulcher and would only last that way for so long.

"It's time to go. Ichigo can handle whatever crosses his path. I have no doubt."

The jaguar scoffed hotly.

With a touch of her hand to the center of her furred breastplate, she withdrew what appeared to be two oblong spheres of light.

"Let's go . . . _Pesche_ . . . _Dondochakka_ . . . "

She blew against the orbs and they burst forth like fireworks.

From the leather-like panels covering her bust, two creatures appeared to them with glee, one smaller and insectlike masked by horns and dressed in the colors of bruises, the other larger and large-eyed, obnoxiously spotted with polka dots and grinning with glee below his heavy nose. The two kneeled before Nel, their master and tutor, their comrade and friend.

Grimmjow nearly jumped, stunned and revolted from where the _fraccións_ appeared. "That's a ludicrous place to store your men."

She ignored Grimmjow. "Pesche. Dondochakka. You remember our plan? I need you to cause as much of a distraction as you can." She pointed out into the Quincies frozen world. "Shake up the remaining Sternritters and hussle them about. But don't get hurt. Understand?"

Though their expressions were doused by their masks, their enthusiasm was not stifled. "Yes, Lady Nel!"

From there the two jumped from the top of the landing, free-falling to the surface of Wahrwald.

From the fall, Dondochakka's voice was overly concerned. "Hey Pesche, don'tcha think we shoulda used the stairs or somethin'?"

"Nonsense! How would we get anywhere if we walked? Ha!"

From their perch, the remaining Espada watched. Nelliel was proud of her soldiers, she couldn't have asked for better.

Grimmjow watched with distaste at their gamble, the two lessers' enthusiasm making him sick with disgust. Nelliel broke the silence, her light voice brushing Grimmjow with unwanted questioning. "By the way, where are yours?" She put up a hand to shield her eyes, in search for the former no. 6's _fraccións_. "I never thought to ask. Were they caught in the Quincy skirmishes in Hueco Mundo?"

He was silent for a moment, still watching as her two familiars rushed into the scene without hesitation. He shut his eyes and said plainly, "I lost them."

"Such a shame to lose those close to you." She tipped the edge of her mask with her thumb, alluding to the scar present on her face. "I nearly lost everything when Nnoitora threw me from Las Noches. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't have been able to return to who I am."

Still he remained silent. Nel watched him carefully.

That was when he sneered. "You think those two can actually do any damage? Hah! Give me a break. _Fraccións_ are expendable. Their loyalty is what what gets them killed."

He turned away, sliding Pantera out from its sheath.

"Grim—"

"You know what form of death I govern. _Destruction_." He said the word like it was a malignant cancer. "I hate everyone that looks down on me. I hated my men because of their adoration for me. I broke them because I sought power to rule them, so they could finally die for me." He was looking at his reflection within Pantera's blade, electric eyes shining as he remembered. "I'm the reason they're dead. I destroyed myself by succumbing to my own sins. I have nothing left besides my hatred. For the Quincies, for Aizen, for _Kurosaki_ . . ."

With that, he took his sword and cut down a pillar in one clean strike, sending it to crumble before them.

The collapse barely made either shudder as it thundered south, the rubble avoiding the inhuman as if it were made to avoid monsters.

He slid Pantera back into its sheath, looking at the damage he'd caused with scarce pride.

Nelliel's hair caught the torrential current as she walked toward her partner, dust hardly coating her gem locks. "It is true that we were once beasts meant to fill the painful hunger within, but we've regained our reasoning for a purpose. If we despair all will be lost. There's no longer a need to fight against the _Shinigami_ when we are the only two who can help them. Yhwach must be stopped no matter the cost."

Grimmjow did not move, his jacket coiling against the remaining air pressure. His fists were clenched, body rigid while everything turned to dust before the _Sexta_. The only cursed talent given to him would have to kill the king. For the first time since his _agreement_ , he wasn't sure if they alone could do it.

Nel turned, facing their barbaric future head-on. "You are my equal, Grimmjow. You know that as well as I do." She took a step into the sunlight. "Come. We must go."

* * *

There was something about fire that always pissed him off. Mainly it was the fact it would burn everything in its path, including him. He got burned _a lot_. The other was, _well_ , burns smelled fucking _terrible_.

If there was anything Askin Nakk le Vaar wanted to do it was take a bath back in the Imperial room where he and the other Schutzstaffel had been earlier, not _here_ , fighting against a lightening wielder and her combustion kid side-kick.

His body might have healed while that blast of incineration from the two destroyed everything around, but above all else his _clothes_ were damaged—he could heal himself, but he'd have to get a new outfit. That was depressing.

 _White_ clothes, covered by ash and soot, got charred by lightening then scorched by flames. _Dear Lord_ , they _smelled_ like fire to boot. The silken, smoky taste was force fed into his mouth. His tongue rode his teeth to scrape off the flavor.

At least he took care of that kid and her keeper for the moment . . . or did she say he was a boy? Askin couldn't remember. He supposed he could have finished the two while he had the chance, but that would have taken too much effort. Yoruichi Shihôin would return to him soon either way. And he was ready for a nap.

Finding a high place to scope out any others from Kurosaki's gang (if they made it), he made himself at home and sat, relaxed among the iced fixtures. But now he was bored. "Oh, this is terrible," he complained. "All this running around and I lost my thermos too. That was some damn good coffee." From within the remains of his singed Sternritter's uniform he pulled out a magazine pilfered from the innards of the mad scientist's quarters, the strange one from 12th Company. Askin nearly balked at its title. "The _Seireitei Bulletin_? Good _Lord_. These Soul Reapers have _no_ taste."

Askin had barely given the writing a glance before he'd been lifted into the air by the burned scruff of his tailored collar, catching him by surprise. " _Hey_!"

A black gloved hand silenced his mouth while he hung like laundry in the air. Only it wasn't a glove.

He noticed the _claws_ attached to the gloves when they nearly sliced the long strand which fell in front of his face.

It was the blue-eyed wild man he fled from before. Before he could panic, Grimmjow threw him into the nearest wall like a ragdoll. "Aaaahh!"

Askin broke through the wall like it was made of gingerbread, pieces crumbling all around and flooding his lungs with icing-laced asbestos. Coughing from within the rubble, predatorial eyes once again found him and yanked at Askin's collar, pulling him out of the remnants nearly an inch from the beast's face. Askin gulped.

"We just have one question, _bastard_." And his eyes shone the fires of Hell though they were beautiful as Heaven.

" _Where is Halibel_?"


	3. Part II

**Give me some slack for these parts! I meant the story with Askin to have happened between chapters 658-662, before his fight with Kisuke/Yoruichi. Thanks, enjoy!**

* * *

 _Kiss of Death_

Askin Nakk le Vaar could play the fool.

His arms were crossed like a child's, haughty turn of the head in defiance as he sniffed at them, lips pursed for a smooch which would never arrive.

"I have no idea who you're talking about!"

There was a bored deadpan from the jaguar's face, sitting across from his Quincy prey and trying _very_ hard not to kill him. It was here that Grimmjow openly splayed his clawed fingers and raked them across his jugular, allowing the blood to drain from Askin's neck as he gurgled, feigning death.

"Grimmjow!" Nel reprimanded.

"He won't die, don't worry," he spoke evenly. "I'll just keep slitting his throat until he decides to give us an answer."

By the time his warped flesh returned to its normal color, the Death Dealer coughed and spat blood off his tongue. At least it was better than tasting smoking teeth. " _Ohhh_! I wouldn't try it," he belching more crimson. Askin's leg had been crushed in the wreckage thanks to the _Sexta_ —it the only reason he hadn't already ran. He would need to actually let his bones reset before the fighting commenced. His cool returned as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "You know I can kill the two of you with just a _vibe_."

He sliced his claws across Askin's neck again, using more force and causing his jugular to break and pustule, but not as much blood was drawn. Then Grimmjow kneed Askin in the stomach, making him double over, leg twisting with another _crunch_. " _That's_ for leaving me on a hook for dead, bastard."

Nel kept silent as the abuse worsened, watching her partner defile the Quincy and turning a blind eye to all he was doing. As one who abhorred violence, empathy for this Sternritter would not conclude their struggles. Least of all would it curb either's sins.

On the ground like a dog, Askin turned to look back at the tall shadow looming over. Grimmjow stepped on Askin's leg, breaking his fibula mechanically with the heel of his silver-plated boot. There was a sharp cry, spontaneous and radioactive as it permeated the air. The tread carved into his skin with jigsawlike patterns, a bloom of swollen rose-violet peonies bruising fast as his body regurgitated bone. With a clenched fist he hissed at the _Sexta_ , pinned under the creep's weight barely by any pressure.

"I can cut off your leg if that's how you wanna play," Pantera only a few centimeters from his ruby-soaked pants. But Grimmjow thrust the sword higher, tip pointed at Askin's crown jewels. "Or we can make it interesting and see how quickly your _femoral artery_ heals after it's been severed."

His eyes narrowed, and a steam seethed from between his snarling teeth. It danced into freedom from its cage, wisps of bizarre energy vaporizing the natural air.

And Grimmjow was his exceptional target.

Taken aback, a rushed hand sliced Pantera against the hot cloud in defense. It whirled round the blade like a lazy tornado, cornering the ex-Espada.

His state of mind darkened.

In a blink windswept hair fluttered into his vision.

Nel appeared before him, standing as a guard to derail Askin's attack. She cradled the fusion with her hand as they reached her body, sipping the poison like a liqueur, sweet from his reiatsu and intoxicating her with his ability, understanding his technique better as she consumed him.

Both men were baffled at the sight, Askin clambering up a mausoleum's bone-white exterior as she neutralized his poison.

Disappearing past her lips, there was a pleased exhalation. Nel gave a satisfied burp, touching a palm lightly to her mouth with modesty.

"God be _damned_ ," Askin said, nearly impressed at the sight. He had managed to stand on his own two feet, captivated by Nelliel's strength. It was enough to keep him within their reach. "That was some of my most lethal dosage. How are you _not_ dead?"

 _Sonído_ sent the two men colliding, Askin's head smashing against another pillar. The aftershock allowed glasslike fractures skitter up the bone column until it split. Crystallized earth propelled from the impact, dousing Askin with dirt. He hung from Grimmjow's clenched fist like a wind chime, several feet off the ground and nearly as aggravating with the musical quality of his groaning.

Grimmjow jabbed a thumb behind him, Nelliel smiling prettily and waving her hand. "Immunity. Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

He eyed the crazy man with vehemence, sniffing at the idea. " _Immunity_? Don't fool yourselves. All creatures can hold out only for so long, _beast_. I have a feeling that goes the same for you Arrancars. I can keep healing myself until you're ACTUALLY dead this time around, no _gift_ ball necessary."

Grimmjow gave a sharp sadistic grin, his reiatsu flaring as he took the challenge like a friend out to dinner. "I _love_ making it interesting."

A hand bunched the fabric of his collar, Nel dragging the _Sexta_ away from Askin before more damage could be done, allowing him to fall on his behind unexpectedly. " _Oof_!"

Chips of ice kicked about, Grimmjow's plated heels whittling new flakes in this horrid wintry world. "What are you _doing_?!" He was being yanked like a child to be scolded, eyes flaring just the same.

"Enough. We need answers. We can't keep torturing him without getting something in return." Grimmjow shrugged off Nel's hand with a jerk, allowing him to when she was satisfied with the distance between them and Askin. The former _Tres_ narrowed her eyes. "Getting off on seeing him bleed doesn't count either."

He gave her a dirty look, Nel staring elsewhere to confirm her suspicions. Pantera's tip gravitated at her nose. " _Back off_. Easing into this takes you too damn long. Let me _finish_ it and we'll be on our way."

" _Indeed_." The light in her eyes dulled, he knowing _exactly_ how far south she was staring.

Grimmjow's lip curled in aggravation. "You want to find her body? I'll _beat_ it out of him."

Nel rolled her eyes.

Askin arched a penciled eyebrow to their cute whispering. If there was one thing he was good at it was screwing with his opponents, and an opportunity like this was almost too good to pass. Or he could run away again. There _was_ that. He was pretty fast given a head start and an _unbroken_ leg. Maybe throwing the Hollows a scrap of meat would keep them off his back for a while, maybe long enough to knock off that _lightening thief_ too.

Then he chimed. "You're looking for, I'm sorry. _Halibel_ , was it?" Askin was sitting crossed-legged casually with a comedic smile. The expressionless looks on their faces told him everything, the electricity in Grimmjow's eyes glowing brighter. "Oh, _yes_. It seems I've hit the nail on the head. You want to know if she's alive, don't you?"

In a flash Pantera sat parallel with his carotid artery, Askin eyeing Grimmjow annoyed. " _C'mon_. Really? You're not _really_ going to try that again, _are_ you?"

"What do you know? Tell us and we'll let you go," Nel offered as a truce.

Askin gave a hearty laugh. " _Let_ me go?" Then he paused. "Anyone who can swallow my _Kiss of Death_ and survive deserves my respect, I suppose." He licked his lips, flicked his eyes to the sword in a suggestion that it should be removed otherwise he'd clam up pretty damn quick. The male Arrancar withdrew, _he_ suggesting more lesions if Askin fucked around.

His brown eyes only sought Nel. "We aren't given the specifics. Names have no meaning to our lord if he sees them unfit. The _Tres_ Espada? Tier . . . Halibel, _was it_? Never heard of her. Not since she was . . . _dethroned_ anyway."

"Enough of your bullshit. Where are you keeping her?" Grimmjow's tone was surprisingly even for one profusely agitated by this guy.

Both ignored him.

"Why are you telling us?" It was Nel who spoke, concerned and ready to take flight.

Askin eyed the female Arrancar. "Lord Yhwach sees everything. He probably knows I'm betraying him as I speak, but bringing you there in person, as a _lame_ hostage, isn't my style. You know I like to fight dirty, big guy," he muttered to Grimmjow, causing a flicker of interest in the man's wild eyes. "He'll know you're coming before you've even moved." He eyed them with vileness. "He ate the Soul King. Ate 'im right up. What do you THINK he's gonna do if you walk right up to him? _With_ your swords drawn?"

There was silence, numbness.

With his full hand Grimmjow stuck Askin across the face, skewering his nose in the process. The Sternritter of the benevolent Schutzstaffel shrieked, toxic blood shooting from his wound like a water fountain. " _We're done_."

The former Espada turned; Grimmjow flicked the flesh from his nails, Pantera resting on his shoulder; Nel quickly shunned the Quincy she thought might concur to armistice.

 _Immunity_? Still it was funny thinking about it. They _weren't_ immune—not by a long shot. He didn't deal with death because he enjoyed it, it simply was a pact made with a devil. And Lord Yhwach was _not_ a true devil.

Maybe.

Just a _scrap_. That's all he'd give 'em.

Reattaching his nose to his skin with the sound of a suction cup, he baled.

"You'll never find her. She's not here. Not in this world, or the next. Only _He_ can find her. Tier Halibel was his prize to claim. Only two people can find her, and I'm not one of them."

Nel responded promptly, a hand outstretched to silence Grimmjow. "Who?"

"Jugram Haschwalth. Uryû Ishida."


	4. Part III

_Fatal Encounters_

There was a polar vortex swirling around the castle's eaves, wind dropping and shocking the air with its violence. Daylight grew stronger, shadows reaching out like long arthritic fingers as the world moved.

A composite of icy wind surged through the gap of a reformed bell tower, howling in soft bellows at the passerbys, _sonído_ guiding them like bandits to the holy _crèche_ by off-white hues, avoiding the blue currents of glacial freeze as they gained ground.

Askin hadn't given them much, but knowing was enough.

Halibel lived.

 _Cold_. _Unseen_. _Within the darkness_. _Somewhere only Death understood_.

The sky fell, heaving sighs of bitterness as it pricked slim needles to their cheeks. It was the same feeling that disturbed Nel as before, that emulation of power soaking deep into her _heirro_. Rescuing Grimmjow from the tomb was only one slivered fraction of this mirror facing them. The fortress felt like a sea. She rested briefly, snapping to a halt. Grimmjow noticed and followed suit, glaring from several roofs over. " _What_?"

There was a beat. Nel sensed her friends afar, felt the mutated pathways birthing action as she lead her partner to the center. She felt the seeping ooze radiate, boasting power and sickening influence as it held her body within its palm. Then it whispered with a sweet vibrato, nauseating her soul.

"This place is strange."

" _Hm_? How so?"

"My _pesquisa_ tells me that Ichigo is near, but I cannot sense from which direction. I feel the corridors are leading us to the heart of the new world."

" _Heart of the new world_?" The idea was absurd. "Did your brain catch fever with those holes in your mask?"

About to move, a vibe of caution harrying Grimmjow caused paralysis. Emotions of anguish washed over, dying energies beckoning him to their final graves. The familiar taste was in his mouth, blood lingering heavily in the air. Nel noticed it as well, smoothly landing by his side.

"I smell death. The scent is stifling," she said wafting it away from her nose with a sour face.

"Quincies were butchered here, and not too long ago judging by the strength of the smell."

He found the Sternritter corpses nearby, eschewed from the castle and mangled by their fall. Blood had hit the earth with a bang, exploding out farther than one thought possible. Two females possibly, onyx hair matting one's planted face, the other similar to a child, her gut inverted like an aroused volcano as it bled out.

There was one other at a distance, almost dead. He gargled bile and clotted blood from his mouth, suffering immensely. He somehow managed to survive the descent, freefalling from several stories judging from the smell his body chafed against the jaguar's nose.

Blood nearly licked his boots as he passed the children, rolling off their broken bones and tarnishing the upturned ground.

Grimmjow raised Pantera as he went to slay the half-dead Sternritter—except he was already dead.

Skin gray, glazed eyes roaming, knees broken and unable to walk or fight, it spewed a mouth of fire as the _Sexta_ approached.

He was laying in a pool of browning blood, mixed with the gravel of Wahrwald and splattered by the paint of a corroded zombie. The Sternritter snarled, revved up his flame-throwing for another attack at Grimmjow.

About to step in and _ease_ this poor fuck's torment, Nel touched his wrist, sending a sharp jolt through the man. "We must be careful. We could be next." She pointed to the line of blood he nearly let tarnish his silver spurs.

Her partner sneered. "It's just one less enemy to kill. Makes it easier for us."

"Grimmjow, I may be immune but you're still vulnerable. If he hits you with an attack you could die. We must stick to the plan Mr. Urahara talked about. If we stray—"

" _Hah_! That con only knows so much."

"He knows a great deal more than _you_."

"Hmph."

The choice of not killing a dead man—or killing someone who _couldn't_ be killed? The choices went to hell right there.

With a _tsk_ , the Espadas disappeared, finding themselves on top of the colossal _crèche_. A swell of dark matter caused a ripple against their hair, making the hues dance in the light like true gemstones. They hopped off the wall and into a corral of spattered ice and blood, Gamuza waiting at the ready while Pantera hung freely. Nel breathed in the decomposing exhaust, ventilating her lungs worse than Askin Nakk le Vaar's poison ever did, the _Sexta_ experiencing his own share of a yellow fever.

" _It's unfortunate. So unfortunate_ . . ."

Writhing shadows pushing out and wriggling in erratic pulsations made their blood run cold. A shroud of eyes peered at them from the darkness, then another, then another, like the lips of a wound opening. His jinxed skin was given accents by the cracks of daylight, the arthritic fingers reaching out to pull them in.

Yhwach grinned at them from within the throne room.

" _Come, my children_. Your fortunes are about to change."

They hadn't entered the _heart_ ; the heart consumed them as it spun into their bodies and sucked them before the King.

The plan Nelliel had been given was already failing.

A flick of blood crossed her nose, a sound like the strike of a match, and with hardly a glance Nel leapt for cover as light dissolved everything.

A sound, ear-rupturing against the glasslike structure of ice, hammered a babel of echoes from the world as the Quincy fell in a nuclear blast of flames and reiatsu. Pinpointed at one target, Grimmjow blinded the world with his intake of energy, burning the castle with delight as he ruptured the fabric of existence. The palace top was decimated; a crucified home meaning all was lost on _their_ "new world."

For a moment everything was gone.

An undulating glow warped the palace. Grimmjow stood in the middle of the orange-red flames, almost unimpressed while bits of the roof continued to drop at his feet, crumpling before a new ruler.

Frazzled from her hair nearly catching fire Nel reappeared, squeaking out, "The _Gran Rey Cero_?!"

His tattooed eyes narrowed, teeth sharpening at the smoky figure dancing behind his inferno.

There was a glint within the fire, fragile and small, a silver-blue hanging above the flames. " _Of course,_ " Grimmjow cursed. The Quincy cross hung round his neck, the charm protecting him against the great king's flame without so much as a lone singe to his cloak.

With a wave, the cero's hellflame subsided, rushing away like a tide back to the sea. The Espadas were left in the open, a charred pergola compressed atop the reformed world.

Espadas were not allowed to experience fear. Fear was a form of weakness exploited by the enemy, and if present they were not worthy of being titled _Elite_. They were to govern a form of death and only through that form were they to die. _Solidarity_. _Madness_. _Ecstasy_. _Greed_. _Rage_. _Nothingness_. _Despair_. _Time_. _Sacrifice_. _Destruction_.

"Do you fear me, Grimmjow Jeagerjacques? Nelliel tu Odelschvank?" He said their names as if love filled his heart.

 _There was one unspoken form of death_.

"I see through your scheming, _Arrancar_. You will not win. Like my pawns you will fall. _One_ ," he pointed at Grimmjow, " _by one_ ," his gaze fell to Nelliel.

 _Splitting the soul apart_.

With a jolt of lightening surging up from the floor into their feet both Espada screamed.

"I knew you were coming. I could see it all along." Yhwach strode casually to the epileptic creatures, visible electricity jumping through their _hierro_ into their bloodstream.

The intensity of the pain made seeing impossible. Large tears formed in Nel's eyes and bubbled down her cheeks, causing worse sparks to plague her.

Grimmjow could barely steady himself on the palace floor, snarling and howling, trying to make his own reiatsu expel this Quincy bastard's curse. He gave a murderous look to the king, damning him to Hell.

Some of the ugliest Hollows assumed shapes like shrouded nightmares in order to find and feast their prey easier, and all eyes upon those lone creatures in Hueco Mundo never disgusted him as much as the ghoulish being before him—not human, not demon.

Yhwach chided them like stupid children.

"What you two take pride in are the _monstrosities_ within you." With a gesture for them to _give_ , both their swords flew into Juha Bach's open palms, Gamuza tearing out of Nelliel's sheath, Pantera _reclaimed_ as if Grimmjow never owned part of his soul.

" _No_! Gamuza! _Aaahh_!" The shocking vertigo only worsened at her outcry.

Her pain was pleasing, creating the air of royalty to exuberate his strength. He ignored her ache, treasuring the moment of how his people would never fear another Hollow, Arrancar, or Espada evermore. "If I am to cleanse this world, I need to expose its weaknesses and flaws before I can extricate Wahrwald to its zenith. As for the two of you," and again he crossed to them, only with Pantera and Gamuza raised with precision, " _you will not exist while I live_."

Grimmjow and Nelliel rose upward, suddenly eagle-spread in the air before the King. Electricity crackled between the two, infinitely twisting between the _Sexta_ and _Tres_ and transferring the pain in a never ending symbol. Latched by chains of _His_ command, Grimmjow thrashed against the invisible bonds wildly, slicing the warfingers apart with black claws until exhaustion began to weaken the beast. Yhwach watched his victims beneath his cover of disfigured eyes, frowning when he resorted to using his shadows to strangle Grimmjow, cutting into his throat deeply until blood flowed. Nel had been gagged by the dark spirits, muffled shouts going silent.

Their bodies were open for slaughter.

She quieted down, found a silent resolve. There was a shaking within the cocoon she was trapped by, and Nel opened her mouth for a cero of her own, watching her partner refuse to give in. With a last violent attempt, Grimmjow rialed up his remaining reiatsu, about to blow over this freak's power. He called out to his other half for power.

" _GRIND_ —!"

Nel screamed in agony, her head flying back. The right side of Grimmjow's face was slick, cold blood pouring from his jaw . . .

. . . Turquoise eyes saw the thing, hot and slick as he slumped forward, the mouth wetting a bloody kiss as it bubbled and dripped. The _cold_ he felt within his chest where his heart might have been, had the Hollow ever had such a thing, he realized, felt . . . _wrong_. And he knew the feel—sleek, powerful, deadly.

Pantera's blade had been shoved through his sternum, tearing through his white jacket and skittering blood like a spider's web.

Nelliel was on her knees, bowed in the same position—Gamuza had found purchase through her flesh. Her ram's mask had been sliced off, scalping the beauty's head and matting her tresses with heavy blood.

Shaken, taken by surprise, Grimmjow snarled at the Quincy, ebony talons pulsating to strike. He wasn't fast enough.

With a harsh yank, Juha pulled both swords from the Espada's chests. Both gasped sharply when removed.

Holding both Pantera and Gamuza high for them to witness, their blood melded with the steel, mutating the blades into long black curves.

Both collapsed before the king, Grimmjow pressing a hand to stop some of the bleeding. The predator within roared, revealing some of the sharp fangs last given.

He seemed to smile under his cloak of eyes.

"Savages will be disposed of. Hollows will die. You will die, my children."

The sea of reiatsu rumbled, causing all things to collapse. Columns holding what was left of the ceiling broke and revealed the sky above, cloudy and stirred in foamy ripples. Daylight had grown stronger over the short period of time, and his strength matched the outside world. His voice was loud and clear, announcing a cry to his brethren. " _Haschwalth_. _Uryû_. _Enough_. We're going back." With a _snap_ in the air a rift opened behind him, Yhwach stepping into what looked like one of their _Gargantas_ , the waves vibrating at such a frequency the world beyond was a blur. Taking his prizes to cherish, Yhwach turned back, speaking to the former _Sexta_ directly. " _You_ may find pleasure in destruction, but know you will never eradicate the damage I've caused to you and your friend."

He laughed demonically and was gone.

 _Beat_.

The world had grown so much _more_ since his departure, becoming more vivid, more _vital_ in the spare ounces they needed left to survive.

 _Beat_.

Something was wrong. There was ragged breathing— _he_ was _breathing—_ as he struggled not to shut his eyes from the pain—and he could _take_ pain. A problem was that he was _warm_ —the blood running free from his skin had a hot temperature. It was almost as if he was actually . . . _alive_. He touched his cheek, blood running over his fingers. His jawbone was _gone_. Sliced clean off. _No_ . . . His eyes grew wide.

 _Beat_.

And what was _that_? The _thumping_ in his chest. It wasn't _possible_ —they were Hollows, spirits— _dead_.

 _Beat_.

A realization overcame Grimmjow and he howled.

Voices were shouting, shouting at them. He glared at the sound, focused on two people running toward him and Nelliel. Their faces were aghast, fear washing over the girl with the lewd outfit's face as she ran faster. It was that little shit Kurosaki. And Orihime, the girl Aizen had kidnapped all that time ago. She gasped, running over to try and comfort Nelliel. They were mere _seconds_ late.

Their sounds were disruptive and foreign. Grimmjow managed to stand, palm holding so much blood he'd need a transplant. Taking advantage of his weakened state, the blood had hardly stopped.

Kurosaki had balls trying to demand an answer as to where he ran off to, what had happened, _questioning._ _Him_. All his shouting fell silent on the man's ears, ignoring the _Shinigami_ while he could. He eyed Nelliel's fallen form, cradled in the girl's arms as she tried to use her healing ability atop her scalped crown. Her mask was absent from the throne room, disappeared coincidentally with the _king_.

" _Damn it_ , Grimmjow! _ANSWER ME_!"

At that he got livid and pulled at the _Shinigami's_ haori. He stared at the brat hoping his look would kill Kurosaki from the inside. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!"

Grimmjow ripped apart his bodysuit with his finger, shredding the black fabric to reveal his plight. "He made us . . . _Human_!"

* * *

 **Critiques/Reviews are always appreciated!**


	5. Part IV

**Salud! For those reading the current events of Bleach, chapter 665 was pretty beast! I had a feeling our favorite panther would return in some fashion, but as much as I enjoyed the chapter I realized my story doesn't quite fit anymore . . . (flips a desk.) Oh well. Gonna keep writing because the pressure makes it more fun! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Human_

Patterns had been forming all throughout the Wahrwald. The ritual featured the side-stepping of enemies, the short stomps of direct confrontation, the dicing of arrows by sword, the hardy beat of fists disrupting facial patterns as they themselves avoided getting slugged in the mask.

A barbed club swung down on a man, sending him to seek shelter from the blast he nearly would've been crushed by.

Declared as two of the weakest _fraccións_ to be placed under the ruling of a _second-rate_ Espada, one who _chose_ when to fight _herself_ , at one time they would have agreed they weren't worth much to their superior. But today they mattered.

Leaping from Dondochakka's back, the smaller of the duo impaled the chest of a soldat with a sharp toss from the air, his huge companion pounding his club into the Quincy like a nail into the bark of a tree. The pawn fell, his death not felt among his cohorts in the slightest.

Quincies were strange humans indeed. They fought for pride. They fought because they were terrified.

Their smell was difficult to describe, because of how much reishi rebounded from the arrows they sought to strike the remainder of the Three Brothers with. The boys dodged them easily enough—going through all that training with their master and that genius _Shinigami_ scientist had its superb perks. It allowed the _fraccións_ better reaction time, winning confidence and some cockiness on Pesche's part, and above all, to strike when the iron was _hot_.

Combining their abilities a spiral of green neon power was released into the soldats with a fiery expulsion, pushing them out and away with monstrous domination.

There was stillness, the _crik_ of ice and crumble of eaves dropping onto the new world. A joyous shout was amplified as a flash of accomplishment from the white-masked superior leapt about with glee as the dust settled. " _Hah hah_! Take that you filthy _scum_!" Pesche triumphed enthusiastically, a fist punched in victory. Dondochakka's large grin was infectious. The satisfaction in his smile mirrored the cheering leaps and hollers from his partner. With these fighters out of the way it meant they would soon be reunited with their master, possibly with the chance for an early celebration in succession of the war's end. It was a delight thinking about it.

Pesche stripped his sword from the dead Quincy's chest, staking his claim over the battlefield. "Right! Master Nel and that _madman_ will be waiting for us, Dondochakka. We should . . ."

There was a dip in spiritual pressure, a cold press which fanned out into feathery nothingness. The duo perked at the elusive feeling, a cold sweat creeping.

The propulsion from the entity glittered like stardust, falling swiftly and dropping out as her light hit the ground and scattered.

All at once she was gone.

Dondochakka gasped. " _Pesche_!" His partner stood somehow erect, fists shaking from death's luminescent sway.

 _Humans_.

Furious heilig pfeil arrows whistled as they flew and struck the ground where they clutched to one another frozen by shock, Nelliel's _fraccións_ overcome and bombarded by an unexpected second assault.

 _So full of life. Such fragile things_.

Aftershocks cracked the surface with a blast so violent it split the two, bodies tangling through the air like misdirected rockets.

" _Pesche_!"

" _Dondochakka_!"

Any remaining strength fled at the second death of their master.

And this time she was truly gone. Neither a child nor woman. No longer one of their kind or something in between.

Whether that meant she had . . . _transcended_ . . . or not.

The _fraccións_ dropped like obsidian rocks, charred and nearly shattering their burnt masks like porcelain.

 _Weak . . . moronic . . . sinful . . ._  
 _  
What_ _the hell were they truly good for other than a tasteless snack?_

Their groans were covered by the sizzling _twang_ of reishi-stretched arrows, Quincy archers releasing their shots to kill.

Useless as a newborn, Pesche shut his eye to the sight.

Arrancars could die, but _Espada_ lived forever.

—Maybe it was best to fall knowing their master died fighting.

 _In death, you can never die_. . . .

. . . The slice on his neck was like a curved grin, lips of the wound glossed with a red sheen, a permanent fixation for another's eyes. Only _his_ eyes weren't looking at the ruby gash.

"Human?"

Ichigo blinked stupidly. " _Human_?" He repeated the word as if it were impossible.

The hollow hole that previously sat on the lower half of his abdomen had been replaced by muscular flesh, abdominal muscles strong against his lean body. Kurosaki stared for far too long at the same spot, awkwardly fixated on the lack of hole as if it would reappear like a magic trick. Grimmjow forced him away, hatred overcoming the former Espada as a strange heat seared his cheeks while he cursed.

His chest _ached_. The slit exiting his back _stung_. The wounds were numerous.

And Nel had lost too much blood. Orihime held her unconsciously weeping form with pity, her power already enveloped to reduce the swell of her brain. It took a strong stomach not to vomit over the sight, Nel's head scalped clean, eyes devoid of life. The girl's pure white pants had been colored with heavy iron, her Soten Kishun covering the heady smell like a thick membrane. Ichigo's lips set in a thin line, swallowing back bile, quelling his emotions though they ate him within. Grimmjow watched carefully, observing his reaction with curiosity. He expected anger and madness. He even expected him to seek chase. He got nothing of the sort.

Ichigo's concern for the fallen Espada was all that sufficed. " _Nel_ . . ."

It began like a steady knead, _heirro_ weaving back into the proper placement on her head.

Holding to patience firmly the wide pool of blood reverted, being drowned out by Orihime's impressive power. Lush hair grew and replaced the pulsations of overlapping skin.

Acquiring the misshapen tumbles of a roughhoused look, the flow of growth from her hair ended in thick tresses. Strangely her mask did not return. Orihime expected to witness horns coiling from the gray mask, rough teeth and blunt chipped snout and empty eye sockets looking out into the lonely world. She got nothing of the sort. Her power shattered; Nel's peridot head untouched other than the previous scar across her face. " _No_." A nervous gulp and the girl tried again to heal Nelliel. It shattered a second time, refusing to continue with unnecessary treatment. The _Tres_ slept on Orihime's lap like an infant, perfectly ageless and beautifully retouched. She nearly looked human, minus her long fuchsia blush and green gemstone locks.

Grimmjow looked on, knowing their encounter had been a fatal act.

Orihime was nearly speechless.

"Inoue, what's going on? Why doesn't she have her mask?" their _savior_ asked immediately, worry turning in his stomach.

"I-I can't bring back her mask. I can only heal her wounds. I . . . I can't reject the damage!"At that Orihime reached into the open slit of her large bust and pulled out what looked like a six-starred device. Ichigo stepped forward in alarm, Orihime freezing him with a look. "We need to get them out of here, _now_!" She pressed the center, the large Shun Shun Rikka clipped to her hair illuminating like a starlit ocean and sparkling like sequins. Nel's armor glowed with yellow light as did Ichigo's; Grimmjow's belts alighting with a burning white. Both men acknowledged strange sunspots dissipate brightly, a part of each being's aura dividing into four identical parts. Each glow hovered in four separate directions and began to rotate at super-speed. Instantly a bright halo encircled the four, swirling and twisting in excitement as wind kicked up, Orihime's hair blasting about under the open sky of the assailed broken _crèche_. A capsule rose like the sun across the sky and set from one side to the other, enclosing them and glowing with a strong fusion of yellow-gold as the warp transformed their surroundings.

The cold of Wahrwald faded out and they were back in Yukio's box, some form of Riruka's power allowing them access to the private quarters.

Ichigo was just as baffled as to how they got there without so much as a _Garganta_ to cross through, or steps to climb, as he was when he tried to get Yoruichi to confess all the secrets they'd _all_ eluded from him.

Orihime panted somewhat, a bead of sweat on her brow. The travel charm she'd acquired took more out of her than she realized. At least it had worked.

She lifted her eyes to the remaining one hurt.

With an outstretched hand her Shun Shun Rikka shot to Grimmjow, covering his body with their healing warmth. He released his palm from the puking slit through his chest, allowing her to heal him. Time regressed; his blood reverted, restitching his bodysuit and patching up the mortal wound he'd cheated death with. The crimson web across his back dispelled as Orihime's power erased the Quincy's dark chokehold from his throat, deep cut also fading in the golden light.

It chose to move higher, but he refused.

"Leave my face."

Her gray eyes widened. "But—!"

" _Do as I say_!" he snapped.

The girl's fairies finished quickly and relieved him from their presence. Grimmjow smeared the blood from his cheek, the display causing the girl to imagine burned flesh instead of _raw muscle_.

Nel stirred against Orihime's lap, moaning weakly. Ichigo kneeled at her side, a knight awaiting orders. Grimmjow stayed away, watched from afar against the wall. He'd been desensitized from emotion ever since he'd been reborn. It didn't feel right to be near them.

Her large eyes blinked, and blinked again. The world surrounding her was dizzying, faces swimming and spinning like coins.

She focused on the man across from her, bloody and expressionless as he waited for her to revive. His blue eyes were like ice, freezing her heart in her disoriented state. " _My head hurts_ ," she told them in a childish voice, weak and young.

The teenagers looked to one another, uncertain of what to do or say next.

Nel sat up abruptly on her own, staring in wonder at the mysterious man so closed off in their small world, obviously hurting while he remained in personal isolation. The teens made active noise, and she stared blindly at the boy. Knowing who he was and not knowing. The tufts of bright orange hair allowed her a free guess. " _Itsygo_?" she asked quietly.

Ichigo opened his mouth to say something and instead nodded. He gave a soft smile. "I'm glad you're alright, Nel," he said.

That was when she began to sniff, a bubbling of tears streaking her cheeks as she cried loudly. Nel fell into Ichigo's chest and wrapped her arms around the teen roughly, _thankfully_ not strangling him to death. As a child in Hueco Mundo it was natural for weeping and easier to accommodate though annoying as it sometimes was. As an adult it was hard because her pain was so strong and full of pure anguish. His protective relationship over her also made it difficult to not get attached to. Ichigo frowned, pat her head to lull her tears, imagining the child he once protected. "Please don't cry, Nel."

She continued to sob, to sniff, coughing raggedly when her lungs gave out, unused to having to actually _breathe_ with them.

Ichigo looked to Orihime, she using her power to repeal the blood from her harem pants. It wasn't that the blood bothered her so much, simply the mix of wetness and cold stuck uncomfortably to her skin. "What do we do now?"

" _I'll tell you what_ ," it was Grimmjow, stepping away from the wall and back into their lives. "We track the bastard down and get our shit back, that's what!"

He edged toward the far wall where he knew the staircase would bring him back. It would only take a push of his red hand—and his way was blocked by the _princess_. She had a determined look on her face, but it was one he'd seen before and broken all the same. "Move it, _onna_."

She bristled at the term but kept her eyes on the _Sexta_. "You can't leave. Until we understand what's happening, you're under quarantine."

" _What_?" If that word had been a knife he would have struck her with it.

She didn't back down. "You're _hurt_. You— _we_ —we don't _know_ what Yhwach did to you. Nel's in a state of shock. You—"

"I _know_ what state I'm in, girl. _Doesn't mean you can stop me_." Grimmjow put his hand on Orihime's shoulder to shove her away, except a hand placed itself on his own and gripped.

He glared behind him. He figured Kurosaki was trying to be the damn _hero_.

It was Nel.

Ichigo was awestruck, as if watching Superman about to subdue a villain.

Her eyes were glassy yet her gaze was strong.

"Release your hold on Orihime, Grimmjow."

There was a noise of disapproval, a faint predator's growl. The girl was released, body mostly untouched by vile hands.

She did not look so imposing without the ram's mask to stare blankly out at the world. Judgment remained however. Her eyes focused and cleared, wishing him to stop such behavior before it got him in trouble. And with her it _would_ be trouble. She raised an eyebrow, face passive as she continued to look him over. She settled upon his steely gaze. "Heal your face, fool. You're _hardly_ a threat without your mask."

The anger at that comment rumbled in his chest like thunder. Nel downplayed her annoyance as easily as she'd normally do waving him off.

The _Sexta_ exchanged a brief glance with the girl. His face fleshed out in seconds. Grimmjow was surprisingly handsome without the mask to mar his features, human in every characteristic, excluding his shade of hair color and permanent eye makeup. He watched them with eyes cold as the sky. His jawbone did not return.

It was enough to make the teens realize, maybe they _were_ in over their heads.

* * *

 **More is on the way soon!**


	6. Part V

**Thanks to a guest the story is marked under "AU" now. After the latest events from ch 666 I'm honestly not worried much anymore. I'm gonna pretend like it didn't happen because of how anticlimactic it was (for me lol)**

* * *

 _Branded_

Time was paused within this shadow outside the True World. To the outside cosmos it was a blank, nothing more than a cherished orb hanging between space and time. An entity all its own, it was . . . _strange_ , a creation breathing as much as its two visionaries beyond the wall's genuine veil. Within the Valley of Screams, this essential checkpoint was also a risk to their suspension of time.

What felt like thirty seconds could wind up being the extent of several hours in the True World if attention wasn't held. People would die in this time. Another day would pass. The Quincy king would only grow stronger.

 _Time ticked_ _. . ._

. . . Nel explained their journey, what happened between her and Grimmjow; the " _reclamation_ " of their swords by Yhwach.

Her speech gained in strength the more she spoke, enunciating each syllable carefully until her childish lisp departed.

The abolition of their powers had been told with songlike inflection, a twisted version of child's a pop-up book. The so-called humanity Grimmjow boldly stated to Kurosaki in a spur of rage seemed illogical, even with the lack of bone sprouting from their bodies.

A sentence was tossed, possibly to lighten the confusion. "He made us "whole" again."

Kurosaki was still unconvinced. "But _how_ are you human? It seems . . . _impossible_!"

"He spit our souls in half."

Grimmjow had been leaning against the wall, arms folded and leg propped to give the very idea of cool as he listened and waited. It was truly remarkable how _dense_ this kid could be. "He left an imprint on us, just like every other Quincy." His blue eyes flashed open, a spark of light reflected in his vision as he beheld the true humans. "He grows stronger with every death. By splitting us from our blades we can't be "resurrected." Our blades won't return to us. We're missing half of our soul. Without our abilities we're _nothing_." The spite from that one word was felt like a hatchet in the supernatural beings chests, a heavy blow meant to kill.

Orihime spoke up. "Are you . . . both without power?"

The look he gave the girl condemned her very core—hadn't he _just_ explained their predicament?

"There is some left within me. I can feel it," Nel said suddenly, catching the _Sexta_ off guard.

"Gamuza makes up half my soul. But not all my power resides within my blade." She took a moment, overthinking her condition. "I may have the physical appearance of a human, but Yhwach is a fool if he believes we've become inept." She looked to her rival standing near. "You say we've been made _whole_ , but I know you feel _it_ inside."

Grimmjow looked through her, trying to find _what_ she spoke of. It was an ironic question.

Espadas were not allowed to _feel_. There were rules of conduct they followed in the beginning under Aizen's regulation, and to this day the ideals personified through their higher rank still met censorship even after his withdrawal.

They could not show pain. They could not cherish. They could not love. Any eccentricity could liken them to a human, which spelled instant death.

In turn, the spectrum of emotions Espada dealt with surrounded their management over a classified death. Expressions allowed to emote could only involve their type of death, the one they would fall by.

And here she was risking him to _feel_. Nelliel was truly a rash oddity.

Grimmjow focused on his open hand, staring at it and willing it to do as he commanded. Cultivating any remaining drop of reiatsu, his prolonged focus nearly triggered an outburst.

Color washed over his hand as if he'd dipped it into a poisoned ocean. It was quick like a fever, black as oil. Spreading over his palm with rapid haste, tapered claws appeared _manicured_ —feeble and ineffective—than murderous. Then it seized, stopping short past his wrist, serrated lines quivering as they sought to lurk higher.

He'd wanted longer claws to cut Kurosaki with. Nothing was more irksome than witnessing his body disobey him.

He shook away his taloned hand, returning to the one of a normal man as he sneaked it into his pants pocket. "It's not much. Our mission has deterred indefinitely."

That was a slap to the spiky-haired youth's ego. "WHAT? You have your own missions?! Why the hell won't any you guys tell me _anything_?!" Orihime laughed bashfully with a shrug as Nel looked off. Grimmjow was only more aggravated.

"Piss off, Kurosaki. We had our own mission. _We_ have our _own_ problem. Take care of your issues by killing the king," he spat, heat rolling from his mouth like a dragon about to burn. The task of killing the Quincy jumped from man to man and it was a pain in the ass. "This doesn't concern you."

"This _does_ concern me! It concerns _ALL_ of us!" he retorted, butting heads with the _Sexta_ as easily as he'd butt heads with his old man.

As Grimmjow was about to jump the brat, Nel stood between the two.

"We're in a pocket dimension. Halibel is in one as well. We just need to find her."

" _Tch_. And how many do we need to get through to find her? We don't have our _pesquisas_ anymore. We can't sense her reiatsu through these _walls_." And he hit the wall with his fist roughly to cause heavy tremors. A screen filled by the black-and-white image of a young boy appeared above them. There was a gray-green eye which peered at Grimmjow with annoyance.

"Do you mind? I really don't appreciate when you try to break the things I make, specifically for _you_ people."

"Yukio. Can you give word to Yoruichi and Urahara by chance? Let them know things have changed?" Ichigo focused solely on the screen, completely ignoring how close he was to Grimmjow as he walked up to it.

There was a blink as Yukio processed the idea. A quick _beepbeep_ was heard from off-screen. His expression hadn't changed.

"I've sent them a text but I don't think they're going to get it for a while."

Yukio shut down his screen, disassociating himself from the crowd.

"What should we do, Ichigo?" Orihime asked wistfully, hoping to lighten the bleak situation.

"We should grab Chad and find Uryû. Hopefully that freak Haschwalth hasn't done too much damage yet." Then he paused. Ichigo looked around him, up at the wall corners. "How do we get out of here? We used the _Garganta_ before but—?"

"My Separator can take us back," said Orihime, holding the named device for him to see.

The girl squirmed as the boy stood next to her, a rosy glow patting her cheeks while they stood together. She pushed the button, and as before the capsule surrounded them, two orbs hovering at opposite ends. It would not warp until Orihime allowed it.

Ichigo addressed the remaining two. "Right. You guys stay here and recover and we'll come back for you later, come up with a new plan. Have Yukio speed up the healing process in here for you guys. Maybe the time-jump will heal you faster."

"WHAT?" Grimmjow shouted. "You're leaving us?!"

Ichigo gave him a boisterous grin. "I thought you hated me. I didn't expect you to enjoy my company so much."

His brows furrowed in rage. " _You little_ —!"

The two vanished before he could properly curse the boy.

Aggravation swelled like a storm. Useless, confined, _and_ he was left with a woman he couldn't stand. _Perfect . ._.

* * *

. . . Nel sat on her knees meditating while the beast stalked the interior of their small square space, irritation licking up each step. She was calm, a visualization of serenity as she remained quiet.

And it mauled at the rage within.

Only when he rounded the room _again_ after what felt like the ninth hour she broke the silence.

"You should reserve some of your energy. You will need it to defeat the Quincy king."

" _Hah_! A little late for that, _Nelliel_." And he crossed the room again.

Her hazel eyes remained shut. "I'm amazed over how much you remind me of Nnoitora."

" _Feh_. I'm not the one who's dead."

"You will be if you continue to act the way you are."

His hand tore at her furred breastplate. "What'd you say, _bitch_?" That slice carved a worse noose than that dead bastard ex-5th Espada had on his body years ago.

Nel did not back down. Her eyes opened, inches away from his heated stare. Their noses almost touched, trying to intimidate her by his closeness. She huffed, rolled her eyes about the room in boredom.

"I told you before, Grimmjow. We're the last of the Vasto Lorde. If you continue to waste your remaining reiatsu within this box I won't stop to pick you back up on the battlefield. If we fall, all will be lost."

There was an irritable bitterness as he beheld her. "Ever the soldier, aren't you?"

"And your lust for destruction will end us all."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "We're not completely human yet."

Bad aura seeped from him. She stared him down from her seated position.

"Listen to me. Just because I choose not to fight does _not_ mean that I don't know how. I do not tolerate careless children. Now _let go_."

He could feel the chill of her remaining power strike, a battle noting that he _could_ lose to the chamois before him. It was unthinkable.

The look in her eyes was a solid warning: either he let go, or they would clash. He _would_ lose. Despicable.

His grip eased, then let go.

Grimmjow put distance between them, as much as he could in the small space. He found the high-rise he'd chosen to accommodate on their original ride to the Soul palace and thrust himself upon it, looking down at Nelliel with cold eyes. She'd resumed her meditation, back poised and head high while she concentrated on collecting any last drop of spiritual energy.

Her awareness of his blue stare fell short, and he scoffed. Grimmjow tucked himself into the corner as if he were cold.

"We have six days left. _Keep that in mind_."

If she heard him she didn't reply.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, locks catching through his raked fingers. It was something he never did, realizing when short strands discolored his palm. He tipped them, watching salt-and-pepper hair dust the high-rise.

Was it a premonition, for the life left to be had?

Tongue pinched under one of his remaining canines, Grimmjow could not draw blood.

It would all be ending soon, and he told her praying form this bluntly.

"We die in six days."

* * *

 **Let me know what you think about this chapter, I feel like it still could use a tweak here or there if anyone sees fit. Thanks!**


	7. Part VI

**Hello all! It's been a while since I posted but I was working hard to get this chapter right. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Children of Fortune_

He seemed to be meditating, eyes resting as he listened to the irregular beat he'd unfortunately now be accustomed with.

Pantera's sheath had been laid out on his lap, as if trying to tune the rhythm of his condemned heart to the missing blade, scouring nearby dimensions for a faint signal, a blip of something _wild_.

It was difficult, admitting so when the room fizzled out his reiatsu _again_.

Pantera was a lost cause as far as Grimmjow was concerned, but that damn _thumping_ made him more enraged than the loss of his blade.

Only the snarl in his voice disturbed the sound, the only way he could ignore it, by talking.

"How much longer 'til we're out of this cell?"

Nel smirked, her own meditative state undisturbed by his voice. "Counting down the minutes, are we?"

"I want my sword," voice gruff to deafen the heartbeats. "I want my _power_." His eyes opened, blazing under the ugly color of Yukio's industrial lighting.

The command to fast-forward their healing process had been done, a different kind of healing— _if it could be called that_ —than the girl Orihime Inoue's remarkable power.

He felt nothing. That was the difference. With the princess, especially when she had brought his arm back and restored his power, it had been a wash of warmth like a kiss, pressed over and over to his healing muscles until his left arm returned.

Here impatience was set as an end-all ruling. It was hard not to twitch from irritability. He'd had enough.

"Hey kid!"

 _"What_ is it now?" Yukio's exasperated voice filled the room, face bored as it appeared on the screen.

"Tell that bastard Urahara we need to get out if here _now_!"

There was a scrolling _beep_ as he looked to a part of the screen. "There's still no response from him. Shall I write him a letter instead? An email perhaps?"

Grimmjow was maddened. He didn't know what an email was and he didn't appreciate the brat's tone. He dropped from the landing, a slight ache in his knees as he came to a full position ready to attack. " _Don't make me come through there you little_ —"

"Yukio, are you certain there's _nothing_ you can do to help us?" Nel asked sweetly. She'd found a place beside Grimmjow's rough stature, hands on his hips and ready to rumble with the young teen.

A green eye peered at her from under his blond tuft. A scramble of codes and cheats allowed Yukio access to a new program. "The realm I'm currently uploading should grant you access back to the outside world. I'm not sure how you'll help, but my Invaders Must Die will give you an advantage."

"Thank you, Yukio." Nel smiled prettily.

There was a tiny blush on the boy's cheeks and a small smile before his image scattered. Grimmjow turned to her with irritation pulsing through his veins.

"Cheater."

"There's no rule that says being nice offers nothing in return."

With that Nel folded her arms satisfactorily, a triumphant humph echoing in the room. He rolled his eyes, feigning the need to be sick.

"Being _nice_ has no advantages. Someone of _your_ stature should know better. What kind of Espada were you?" he challenged.

Nel refused to take the bait. "One that made rational decisions not based on spite or taunts. Anyone ranked _Quarto_ and above understands that kind of pettiness gets you killed in battle." She added, "You really think you'd survive as the _Tres_?"

Grimmjow snarled, seething with distaste at the mention of her rank . . . or was it _another_ that made the cat hiss? An eyebrow had perched and quickly she saw through his devastated smoke screen. There had only been one ranked Fourth since she'd held her position—and been nearly blown away by him within Ichigo's grasp. A naughty smirk played on her lips.

"I knew Ulquiorra. He was one of few Espada who could actually get along with anyone."

Grimmjow gave a harsh snort, tossed his head from the idea.

Nel was sharp as ever. "You two are complete polar opposites. You're as outrageous and violent as he was calculated and calm. You don't respect him, but I bet you envy Ulquiorra for achieving a _second release_."

That actually shocked Grimmjow. His eyebrows furrowed at once. "How did you know that?!"

"I felt him die too, remember? Maybe not as a comrade, but the abrupt force of his departure was quite hard to dismiss. Even to a child without power."

That truly made him want to retch. "Well that's just _great_!" and his sheath pierced the wall, grip crushing the scabbard into fine dust. " _All of us_. We're so _damn_ unfortunate. Dead. Impaired. _Inhuman_." Grimmjow yanked it from the wall and threw it blinding-fast, piercing one of the useless throw pillows and forcing it to the opposite wall. "You heard Urahara. The world will end in nine days once the Quincy king regains his _self_. The _brat"_ —likely indicating Ichigo—"thinks he can take on the freak himself with those modified swords. His crew believes he can win. _Hah_!" He ripped his sheath from the murdered pillow, down feathers spilling like blood from its mock hollow hole. Grimmjow damned the thing with his icy stare. He wasn't finished. "Now we're here as relics. All we can do is step on shards of glass! For high-class Hollows, we sure as shit don't have _any_ kind of luck."

Feathers had been yanked and scattered throughout the box in his malice, pummeled with his fists and empty sheath. The only thing he _could_ kill was as dissatisfying as this embargo of their powers.

Vanquished by a king and misfortune . . .

Nel thought of something and it was noticed immediately.

" _What_?"

"Unfortunate children . . . Through glass and painted mask . . . wielded blade by two—"

"—What're you blathering about—?"

"—end in bloom." Nel paused, looked to Grimmjow. "You knew Barragan. Did you ever hear about the Hollow King's stories?"

That threw him for a loop. " _Tch_. I never knew the geezer had stories to tell."

Nel got up and crossed to a corner of the box, lifting a flap Grimmjow hadn't known existed and pulled an item small and leaflike from the cubby. A type of manuscript from the look of it, paper-white and falling apart as she held it in her hand. It was something read many, many times.

"Some time after Ichigo left, I remember Pesche finding this old book in one of the palaces. He said it'd been mine when I was an Espada and looked after it fondly." She took a moment to reexamine the cover, thinking back to fond memories from her past. "Apparently after my exile from Las Noches my things were discarded at a rapid rate. Nnoitora stole my palace. But he didn't find all the treasures I kept hidden."

Grimmjow eyed her with contempt, the story already too long. He sat amongst the pillow corpses, fist to cheek. " _And_?"

"The stories in this book are tales of culture, histories of the world, old and faded mythologies, perhaps fallen to Hueco Mundo with an unfortunate soul. Pesche read me a story, telling of how a king fought off his enemies, how his fearful tutelage sought forth the coming of a great army, much different than Aizen's."

He drummed his fingers in an uneven pattern. Grimmjow begrudgingly nudged her to continue with exasperation. "And what was the story about?"

"It spoke of the Children of Fortune. Death wasn't always a cruel departed soul. He had a heart at one point, just like us. Like every Hollow when they were once human."

Nelliel opened stain-withered pages, citing the text directly when her eyes found the title.

" _There once lived an arrogant and evil king whose ambition was to conquer everything and cause every man alive to fear his name. With sword and fire he scourged the world; his soldiers walked in procession, trampling over sinners and setting fire to the pelts of animals. Day by day his power increased and his name became more fearful to all. No man was able to resist falling before the wrath of his mighty army. Luck seemed to smile on whatever he did._

" _The evil king erected statues of himself in every city, every home, claiming proper rule over the castles of royals. The king however could not sway the priests who protected their churches from his power._

" _The priests said, 'King, your influence is great, but God is greater!'_

"' _Then I must conquer God,' he replied, and burned every synagogue._

" _Within weeks God fell. The evil king broke through Heaven's gate and changed the world to his liking. Only few could resist the evil king, and those who could allied themselves with Death. Death would not see the world die before its time and bestowed gifts of unlikely items to his children, spiritually sound and spiritually inclined to protect their world from misfortune."_

Nel took a breath and read, " _The god of Death told a tale to those who could hear him. He said, 'My children, you will come to fortune one day, but not without forsaking those you care for. My children, you will learn that life is full of death, but the riches that survive in the living, the fortune is seeing the glory within._

 _'Life is permitted. Death is inevitable. Children will come into fortune_.'"

Grimmjow's face was like a slate, nearly falling asleep from the droll which was the story. "I knew Barragan couldn't tell stories. That old bastard wore them across his face instead," referencing the tyrant of skulls' scars across his visage.

"You weren't much of a reader, were you?"

"That story made no sense, Nelliel."

Nel was comically expressive as she frowned, Grimmjow's ignorance quite aggravating as he only lounged in his court of mauled cushions. "It's _obviously_ telling us about the Quincy king!" She huffed. "Well I believe it teaches us something. If we are given opportunity we must take it."

" _Hmph_. An opportunity to do what exactly? Sit on our asses and state _reclamation_ when we both know damn well our fight is over?" Grimmjow picked up Pantera's sheath and studied the ocean blue weave with boredom, rest it against the wall in respect, as if with care. "That _prophesy_ tells nothing of who we are, _what_ we are. What kind of _fortunes_ are you expecting? We have nothing, no power, not even a weapon to cut down our enemies."

Nel continued. "There is another part, a parable. It's said to be a legend from the human world, but now I'm not so sure."

"And what makes you so damn sure it's even _Barragan_?" Grimmjow got in her face again, pointing an accusing finger at the broken spine. "That book's old. There's more than just one god of Death. The humans created more gods than there actually are. Then again, those _Shinigami_ _did_ get their asses kicked," and he smiled at the thought, pleased by so many of their deaths.

"You're horrible!" Nel snapped.

"I never said working together would be a delight." And his smirk widened, finally getting under the bitch's skin and loving it.

She glowered at him, finding it cute as the pull of her lips turned into a pout. If only he felt affection toward his partner.

She ripped open her tome and turned, making sure that the swish of her hair got him partially in the face. Sparks of rage illuminated his bright eyes, hand reaching to tear a clump of grass-colored hair out. She stepped away before he could snatch her.

" _See through glass and painted mask and wielded blade by two,_

 _from here the world will end in bloom_."

Nel caught his hand and held it, snapping the book closed with her opposite palm. His naturally furrowed brows marked an even deeper and angrier scowl as he beheld her, lip curling as he said, "I can't stand you."

There was a smile, teasing him. "I know. But you know if we work together we'll succeed. We made a pact with Urahara after all."

" _Ugh_."

"I value your trust. Maybe it's time you realize I'm on your side, beast."

* * *

 **** Forgot to add this in. The tale of the _Children of Fortune_ is actually based from fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. The chapter took longer because I was actually doing research :)**


	8. Part VII

**_(So I just found out along with everyone else Bleach is officially ending by August! Aaahhhh! I'm totally freaked out, mainly because it's so soon (partly because I'm nowhere near completing this story lol). There are a lot of loose ends I don't think will be touched upon by the end, so for now I hope you continue to follow my version just in case the series' completion isn't up to par)_**

* * *

 _Relapse_

 _2:39_

 _2:38_

 _2:37_

 _2:36_

Yukio's Fullbring came through. Healed according to the youth's eclectic sensors, in less than three minutes the ex-Espadas would be freed from the industrial box and be rereleased into the Wahrwald.

They stood waiting before the timer, counting down the seconds as red numerals burned into their retinas. Yukio's strange digital clock was like a floating emblem above their tipped heads for the days to come. It was bothersome.

There was a huff from the werecat, scratching his hair in irritation.

Grimmjow asked bluntly, "Did your book of Fortune say how the hell we'll win? I don't exactly remember an ending."

Nel smiled. "The legend says " _the world will end in bloom_."

"That tells me nothing."

She tried a different explanation. "The _Children of Fortune_ talks about death, how "Death is inevitable." Death created an army to resist the evil king. We are figments of death. Perhaps it's telling us—"

"—You're just gonna go on and on, aren't you? If you're relating this back to Aizen and the damn Hogyoku just kill me now," he spat. "Like that _Shinigami_ created _Las Noches_ because of some historical premonition, _gimme a break_." Grimmjow's foul attitude and ignorance to possibility hardly tried Nel's patience.

 _2:03_

 _2:02_

"Aizen _did_ bestow gifts of unlikely items to his "children," Grimmjow. Maybe you'r—"

" _NO_."

 _1:54_

He didn't care what the chick said. All that mattered was gaining his power back.

 _How_ was another question. That deal with Urahara was null and void far as Grimmjow was concerned.

Grimmjow thought back to their encounter with the Quincy king and scowled. Yeah, some of that shit story was significant and coincidental to this Blood-war, he wasn't a total hot-head all the time, too ignorant or blind to see the reality around them. He just didn't believe in coincidences or bullshit plain and simple.

Finding his thoughts soaked in the Quincy's hot blood as he murdered the king, casually he eyed the symbol of Aries on her wrist when the lust passed. It was as innocent as a thought could be, especially coming from _Grimmjow_ of all people.

"What about that bracelet the Candyman gave you?"

She took hold of her device and held it protectively.

"If you're going to try and take it so you can abandon me and run off— _forget it_."

Grimmjow felt touched in a twisted sense and grinned maliciously. " _Aw_ , c'mon now, what fun would _that_ be?"

She swatted him on the nose with her book and folded her arms. "Your sense of humor is really horrible, you know that?"

"Do that again, I dare you!"

"We have a _mission_ , remember? What use will I be if I'm sentenced to being a child once more?" she said crossly, then added with a vindictive tone, "Your irrational urges will be the reason we fall, I swear . . ."

 _1:22_

 _1:21_

He gave her a sidelong glance, bright eyes narrowed. " _Nelliel_. Do you honestly believe we can siphon through _every_ dimension created and find one out of thousands? We're not _that_ fortunate, no matter what your story claims," he added sarcastically, still denying the power of the tale.

The flurry of unnatural hair hid the reaction on Nel's face. "It's our duty to find one of our kin. If you ever claimed to be proud of your position and strength, imagine powerlessness and the inability to strike your enemy as they laugh in your face." Her eyes met his and told him straight, "Halibel's honor deserves that much."

There was an incoherent grumble, a snide remark going unheard.

Silence.

 _:59_

"What can I blow up to find her?"

 _:57_

"Everything."

He liked the sound of that.

An iridescent outline found shape on the wall below the countdown, a door large enough to fit both inhumans through at once. His eyes were locked on the glow from beyond. _Not much longer_. . . _!_

"Grimmjow?"

He stifled the urge to growl.

"What?"

He didn't look at her.

She studied his face, his features. Decided against saying anything. "It's nothing."

He glanced at her briefly, noticing . . . something. Off, different, there wasn't a correct term for what he saw.

His eyes flicked back to the door. "If you've got something to say spit it out."

There was a wry smirk on her lips. "Just make sure you powder your cheeks when this is over. You don't want to ruin your new face with all those bruises you're going to get."

There was a spark in his eye, finding her comment actually amusing. "We'll see. Can you manage without your blade?"

"You should talk. I've lived without a blade longer than _you_ could manage."

 _:03_

 _:02_

 _:01_

 _GO_

The door dropped as if falling down a chute, strip lights illuminating the steps toward the blackened rendezvous point.

"You better hope the Garganta opens when we get to it. With what little reiatsu we have it might not recognize us or heed our command."

Nel hummed in agreement.

Down the stairs and standing before the mouth it opened without temperament, shutters spreading like a drawbridge of teeth, shifting one by one until the gap matched the height of their bodies and they passed through.

Both were disturbed.

Grimmjow swore harshly. "We spent too long in that freakin' thing!"

Night had fallen, the palace unappealing as Hueco Mundo's crescent moon as it hung in the sky like a frozen cocoon.

Emptiness encircled them, finding their exit's surrounding _crushed_ by an unknown source. It was a wonder their nail survived the impact at all. "What happened?" Nel asked rhetorically, Grimmjow gaining higher ground to inspect further. Ellipses destroyed the Wahrwald at uneven distances, white towers demolished by what looked like _footprints_. Buildings crumbled afar, smoke rising as the barren land wasted before his eyes. They'd missed one _hell_ of a greedy battle; Nel thought she heard the remnants of eaves shatter from the giant's impromptu tirade though only they stood amongst the ruins.

Wind swept through her hair, air chilled by a colder presence, crisp and unlike the dreariness of Hueco Mundo's endless nights. Ghosts passed in wisps as she exhaled.

Grimmjow dropped at her side, own breath clouding his face as he readied to charge forward.

" _Wait_!"

Both turned in surprise to see a costumed girl dashing behind them, pigtailed magenta locks bouncing behind her fluffy cap like an extra set of rabbit ears. She slowed and doubled over gasping for air like she had run a marathon, hardly a few hundred feet.

"Riruka!"

Her face was flushed as she looked at the female, Nelliel's approachability calming her somewhat.

"I . . . I heard over the intercom, what happened," _huff huff_ , "I-I wanted to-to give this to you, to help you."

Riruka held out her Love gun, cotton candy colored and duck billed and winged like sweet cherubs. It was questionably more adorable than the _Sexta_ could withstand. "It isn't much. I don't even think it could stop that man if you tried . . . just don't scratch it. I kinda like it a lot."

Nel swept her up in a great hug suddenly, full of love and adornment as she pressed herself cheek to cheek with the struggling girl, smiling graciously with joy. "Oh, _thank you_ , Riruka!"

" _Yech_! Let go! I didn't want this to be a hugging fest, _ack_! You're _crushing_ me!"

Nel released her, innocent eyes watching as Riruka attempted to realign her spine.

Grimmjow looked elsewhere, impatient and slightly appalled.

She looked to the _Sexta_ , hardly withering as she called to him. "Hey. I have something for you too."

"I don't do cute," Grimmjow responded, impressing on the human girl he'd rather chew off his own leg than keep something of hers on his body.

Riruka grumbled, then sniffed hottly. " _Fine_! It's not like I wanted to help you anyway!"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, already tired of this whiny bitch.

He heard it whistle through the air before reacting; something knocked him squarely in the back of his head. " _Ow_!" A hand immediately went to the spot, Grimmjow turning to see the item of assault. A chrome tin with heart-like rivets lay on the bleached stone dust, Riruka's face flushed by rage, arm raised in punishment toward his direction. Nel was dazed by the action. She actually threw it at him!

Grimmjow picked it up, steaming with murder. "The hell is this?!"

"What do you _think_?! It's to help you, you _jerk_!"

"Well, what does it do?!"

"How should I know?!" Riruka shouted back, gaining her own pair of fangs in spite of the disgraced Panther king.

Red seeped into his blaring blue eyes, destructive impulses overpowering his mind like opium to end her. Nel somehow was there, stopping Grimmjow with a hand to his open chest. Grinding his teeth as she resisted.

"It's a location device developed by Urahara, designed to isolate reiatsu, or whatever. To help find your friend." Riruka had wrapped an arm around herself, as if to keep warm.

"And that bastard only decided to give it to us _now_?!" Grimmjow roared, Nelliel continuing to do her best to tame him.

"Yukio forgot to give it to you, OK?"

"That's not true. You're the one who wanted to make sure Ichigo would be able to draw more power out of it!" Yukio delivered smartly as he popped out from the box, PSP between gloved hands.

The girl's face warmed with heat, blushing bright. "Shut up, Yukio!"

"It wasn't finished at the time you all left," he addressed to the ex-Espada, voice resonating loudly from high within the box. "It is now, so take it." Once more the boy closed himself off from the outside world, leaving Riruka to deal with the issue at hand. She made a face at the entrance, hoping Yukio could see her through the walls.

Grimmjow stuffed the device in his pocket and stormed off, smoke rising from each burning step. Urahara was _useless_! Grimmjow shouted back, "HE COULDN'T GET ME A SWORD?!"

Pounding bursts rocked the arctic earth, the _Sexta_ waging war only a short distance away. An avalanche of buildings caused the girl to grow nervous. It was a complete flip from the raging teen she'd been moments before.

Nel calmly touched Riruka on the shoulder and smiled. "Don't listen to him. We'll make sure Ichigo wins."

More collapsed past the gigantic footprints, sound playing a heavy-metallic ballad as it drowned everything else out.

Nel brought her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, almost embarrassed to be associated with Grimmjow.

She found him lost within the devastation, dusted white and out of breath. His hair was ashen and gray, specks of his hardship biting through his clothing like tiny moths. Knuckles had been bloodied, a hairline scratch over the burn scar gemstone red. He refused to look at her, either too proud or too humiliated while he sat on a disintegrating throne of rubble. She looked around herself, toeing splinters of wall Grimmjow blew out. Nel sighed, hands on hips as she thought. He didn't want a lecture, and she didn't want to give one either. It was as she told him before—Nel would not stop to pick a comrade up on the battlefront if he was the one attempting to take his own life.

If Grimmjow relapsed again Nel wasn't sure she'd stay by his side for the remainder of the war.

She tossed her hair back, keeping herself composed as she called to her partner.

"So what's our plan now?"

He scoffed. "Same as it was before."

That wasn't exactly what she meant; Nel took his response regardless. "You mean find Halibel? But how do we find Uryû?"

"Who?"

" _Ishida_."

"Oh. The hell if I know." Grimmjow rose, knees tender and popped when he stood upright. The joint pain was uncomfortable but bearable.

"Askin said he and the other Quincy named Haschwalth can lead us to her. Let me see your device. If it can isolate reiatsu, we can possibly— "

"Just take the damn thing, I don't want it." Grimmjow thrust it in her hand and walked away, dusted himself off; Nelliel fumbling both bubblegum-pop gun and stickered location device like they were piping hot. She clutched the two against her full chest in fear they'd both break if dropped.

The _Sexta_ took a deep breath and felt the cold prick his lungs, exhaled deeply until reiatsu warmed up from within, revving with primal energy like an engine.

Grimmjow thrust himself forward into the dark air, leaping to gain higher ground, to get away from Nelliel, only to make a bump in the air. Grimmjow hardly moved more than a couple yards. He touched down with a surprised look and attempted again. He looked like a child playing hopscotch.

She retorted with a chiding laugh, grinding his gears as a vein sprout from his forehead.

"Of course this is how you tease me. Human for only an hour and you're already playing games."

He muttered something, Nel lending an ear in the direction of his voice. Her mouth was still twisted in a wicked grin. "What?"

" _I said I can't wait until I get Pantera back so I can_ _cut_ _you_."

She smiled in agreement. "I look forward to that time."

They took to running, swiftly cutting through the wintry streets as shadows loomed from the eaves above, concern for the demonic king or his rabid soldats emerging from them hardly a thought. His vicious blue eyes took hold of the woman prancing quickly before him, hair rippling in odd shades as they weaved between the darkness.

"So how will you get Ishida to give you what we want? He's the king's _bitch_. Are you gonna beat him into submission? Do you have it in you?" he mocked, knowing Nel's kind heart loved more than hated.

She eyed him and smirked. "If anyone like me can handle a brat like you, I think we'll do just _fine_." And she leapt farther than he expected, reiatsu bounding from her proudly.

A strange sensation vibrated against her ribs, actively buzzing with the full power of a wasp's nest. She pulled out what was the location device, chrome surface sparking pink where Riruka's hearts pressured the surface.

With a nuclear burst Nel soared atop one of the false stone churches, standing on the point of a conical spire. Nel stared at the little tin gadget in her black-gloved hands, it beeping heartily as familiar energies coursed through her veins and fed her hungry soul. Its glow colored her cheeks with firelight. Excitement grew on her face.

She was so high up he had to squint to properly see where Nel was against the darkness. A firefly had more depth than the gold speck she became. " _Hey_! Get back here!" Grimmjow shouted from below. More than five stories high and she shot up like a missile without breaking a sweat. She aggravated him when she was around and when she _wasn't_ around. Meditating all those hours apparently _had_ given her an advantage.

She was up there for so long dawn's light pierced him with needle points. His eyes narrowed to the sun. _Fuck . . ._

" _Five days_ . . ."

The silhouette of her ruffled leotard dropped from the spire with haste, halting above him on a nearby roof like some icon of stature. " _This way_!"

She was off before he could curse her. "Wait!"

He saw the shape of her leap from railings to roofs and he chased the _Tres_ fast as he could.

Grimmjow didn't know where the hell she was leading him but he sure as shit wouldn't let her keep trailing him along. No, it was about time to pick up the pace and use what lousy reiatsu he had left and find the _real_ one he was looking for and suckerpunch the little bastard. And he could _smell_ him nearby. He deviated from Nel and found refuge with another empty road, leading him straight to who he wanted.

The Wahrwald stretched for _miles_ in five directions—and they were _so_ close, he and the girl. They'd left hours ago but only were _this_ far away? The _Sexta_ caught up to them in no time.

Flashes of color the shades of autumn leaves flit by at the end of the street. _Hair hard to miss_.

Grimmjow advanced and found a shortcut through a building, smashing through windows and doors.

* * *

They'd been running for hours but neither showed weakness or shortness of breath. He'd figured Inoue would need to rest after so long but she hadn't complained once. Dawn was breaking and he thought church bells were ringing in the distance, echoing throughout the kingdom to indicate Yhwach's unholy coronation. The icicles were like glass as they shattered underfoot, falling to impale. More and more shook from the blue-white marquees they passed beneath, Orihime's skirt nearly gaining a slit in the back. The area shook enough to make the teens believe an earthquake was upon them.

A harsh knocking of drywall and groaning wood came from their right—

There was a punch and Ichigo was sent flying.

" _Aah_! _Ichigo_!"

The teen shook it off and looked to the cyclone of smoke, Zangetsu gripped within his hand. Orihime hovered over his fallen form as a protective charm, ready to defend.

The man emerged from the home's innards, snarling at his victim and clearly pissed.

"What. _Grimmjow_?!"

"Damn straight it's me you little punk! That'll teach _you_ for locking me up in a cell!"

The teen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, red beads smearing. The girl's eyes were larger than normal, open and bewildered and she looked Grimmjow over.

Kurosaki opened his bloody mouth and said, "What happened? What's up with your hair?"

" _Huh_?" Grimmjow looked into the nearest reflection of glass, hardly a mirror but it reflected enough. Salt-and-pepper was dusted into his hair. Big deal. A hand raked through the wild locks to clear the gray. It didn't bring back the color's vibrant hue, so he did it again. And again. Silvery strands fell out easily, settling on the ground like seasoning.

The gray was permanent. " _What_?!"


	9. Part VIII

**_I wanted to get at least one chapter up before the official close to the Bleach series. Honestly not sure how I feel about it ending on such a rough note. Many people speculate Shonen Jump is the cause to such an interesting story being botched, causing Kubo to be rushed, even at the very end. I wrote this before but I hope everyone will continue to stay with this story until I complete it, even when Bleach ends._**

* * *

 _The Road to Jericho_

Blue as a strike of lightening, his eyes widened at the sight of himself. Half-shocked at the state he'd fallen into.

Salt-and-pepper dusted his jacket and bodysuit. Strands were caught in his palm like some lame rodent, lacking color and unappealingly gray.

Edgy locks were styled in his usual way, disheveled only by the tint of middle-age. Blue had faded into gunmetal bands which balanced around his crown.

Orihime wasted no time and directed her fairies at him, reversing the wounds to his fists and regenerating skin taut to the muscle. The silver-gray locks resisted change, and eventually the healer waved her power off, disappointed.

Kurosaki, comedic timing at the ready, again mouthed off. " _Damn_. When you said Yhwach turned you human I didn't believe it at first, but this is getting serious! You're looking more haggard than my old man!"

A vein throbbed in aggravation. "Of _course_ it's serious, you cheeky brat!" Lips had curled into a snarl. At least he still had prominent canines. "I might look like I'm aging physically, but I'm still _a-hell-of-a-lot_ stronger than you!"

As if to prove his point, Grimmjow made a grand gesture in the air with his hand, about to unleash a direct shot at the _Shinigami's_ head. The supernova barely warmed when heels clacked on the slate roof high above.

" _There_ you are!"

Nel's fists were propped on her waist in an oppressive stance, looking an image like Wonder Woman if her frown wasn't present. "I can't believe you! Running off like that!" scolding him hotly, Grimmjow ignoring her wrath as steam escaped through his nostrils. He shook off the live heat which formed into his hand begrudgingly.

The sky was growing gold on the horizon and it passed through the dips in her hair like a crystal, highlighting all the unnaturally occurring changes with a brush of wind.

She was getting weird looks from the kids. Grimmjow noticed it then too, the _something_ he couldn't figure out earlier.

The desperado watched Nelliel drop with aesthetic haste to confront his actions, indicating the demolished wall to her right upon landing. "The more you exert yourself the less reiatsu you'll have. I warned you about this!"

Orihime cried, " _Ah_! Nel, your hair!"

She looked confused, a frown tugging her lips as her eyebrows perched. "Hm?"

Her vivid locks had become less unique without her even realizing.

Her hair appeared . . . _confused_. . . as to what color it chose, spits of reddish mud and earthen clay, shoots of green twirling round in thorny stalks. There were sunbursts yellow like a summer marigold, sandy blond curls wisp-like and thin the more they observed. Nel didn't nearly suffer as much gray as Grimmjow, however silver strands caught his eye, listening to its own pattern and rippled through her hair as she moved to rejoin the group. It was like a flow of sand on a shoreline, strands cajoling one another to keep the true color of her hair a mystery.

Ichigo could hardly understand half of what'd become of the Espadas as they stood side to side, staring at one another's mane like grotesque creatures of myth.

Physically they would've held rapture if they were _average_ humans, beautiful and deadly.

Unnaturally they were odd and mismatched, strange beings reborn in the shadows of a rift just shy of reaching Nirvana.

Grimmjow folded his arms as he snorted, throwing a sharp glare away from Nel onto the teens, more vicious with the way the teal framed his eyes. He started bluntly, "Why were you idiots running around? Aren't you worried about being captured? You're Public Enemy Number One," indicating the savior.

There was a grimace from Kurosaki, Orihime looking forlorn as a widow's at the grave. Kurosaki said, "They got Chad. And Ganju. I don't know where they took them. The statues we left them to fight Yhwach were demolished . . . but there's no trace left on the stones."

"Oh dear," Nel said with strife. Her partner kept a blank stare.

"He's picking off Urahara's pawns right under your nose, Kurosaki," and Grimmjow made a gesture like he was knocking aside a chess piece, queen claiming the spot of a knight.

"Pawns?!" the teen threw back, insulted.

"Not like those two did all that much."

Kurosaki stepped up to the plate across from Grimmjow, confronting him on a more personal level. They hadn't been this close since their last battle, when he was a demon and _he_ was fighting for his pride.

"Urahara wouldn't set us up like that, to be knocked off so easily!"

" _Sheesh_. Then you _hardly_ know battle, kid. How well do you actually know this guy? He's as _savage_ as I am, even worse," he sneered.

Nel gave Grimmjow a look of uncertainty, kept her poise straight as she listened and seemed to agree. Grimmjow went on. "Urahara would _deliver_ you to that Quincy himself if it didn't mean everything would be erased!"

"Stop lying!"

He gave a wicked laugh. "We're running out of _time_ , Kurosaki. We're going to _die_ in five days unless we figure out how to kill him!"

Nel cut in with, "Grimmjow—"

" _DON'T_."

She turned her nose away, refusing to acknowledge where the conversation had turned.

"Do you really think we give a shit he wiped out the Soul Society? You're just a _substitute_. He took _everything_ from us! Our land, our powers, _us_! Hueco Mundo has been compromised. So _what_ if he wants to conquer the world?! What's so important that he took from you?!"

He forced his way through the minute crowd, orange bangs shading his eyes from view. The warrior was young, eighteen-years-old and a veteran afflicted by the tug of war more harshly than a youth spiritually inclined should ever experience. Ichigo stopped, his strong shape silhouetted to the oncoming daylight.

"He took my mother. He took our _friend_. I refuse to see my _nakama_ suffer anymore. 'Specially not at the hands of a madman."

A curtain of darkness appeared to bleed from his back, stoic as it reached to cater to his group, an unnatural chill seeping through their veins as he looked to the light. "Friends. Allies. Enemies. In the end we're all going to suffer the same fate, Grimmjow. Without all of us we might as well put the crown on him ourselves." A look was sent back to the _Sexta_ , a golden iris fixated on the one he hoped would be his ally.

Ichigo was gone in a flash, _shun-po_ lifting him off and leaving the three behind. Orihime gasped and ran after him, calling his name, attempting to catch up. Grimmjow's leer also caused a flurry in her steps as he eyed her exposed curves over, making her uncomfortable.

" _Ichigo_!"

He gave a huff of a laugh, finding humor that he was able to tease the girl into running away.

The two Espadas were left, both silent and scowling bitterly. Nel studied her strands with mild interest.

"He's right you know."

"Shut up."

"The road will only be more perilous the farther we travel. We're stronger as a unit. He wishes us to stand as one. Otherwise . . . all will collapse."

Grimmjow blew at the gray strands before his eyes. "How can you stand having all that hair?"

She ignored the question, tossed the unnatural waves off her shoulder. Nel followed the barren street until daylight grew in strength, rapid bursts from the tin device pulsing in her hand. She had left Grimmjow to stand in the shade of the building, looking even older as the light played against his rough features. She turned to follow suit of the humans, eyeing him cautiously. "Don't let it be like _Jericho's Route_."

"What?"

"Another story. I don't have time to explain it to someone who won't listen."

Grimmjow grinned. "It's not that I won't listen. I just can't stand the sound of your voice."

"Likewise."

Nelliel hopped-to and ran after her friends, seeking out Ichigo to try and offer guidance.

Grimmjow spat. Were they _really_ going to show back up at the Silbern without a plan? Nelliel's condolences aside, how far were they going to push to the edge? It was aggravating.

He'd originally split from the group to chase Askin, _better fun than the hiking trip with the A-team for sure_ , but man, one little _rattle_ from him about what war tasted like—and _he_ was the one losing more reiatsu?! Half their forces were incapacitated or staving off the enemy. What a joke.

Shaking Kurosaki's nerve with the comment about the Candyman was the only thing worth it. Any excuse for payback _if the world was going to end . . ._

Grimmjow stalked into the opening, a frozen memorial or carving presented in the center as an inviting scenic element. It only stood in his way. "Nelliel!" he shouted, "Stop pissing around!" All three had dispersed. There was silence. Grimmjow shouted her name again. " _Nelliel_! The hell are you?!"

Gone.

He snarled fiercely like his feline counterpart, the panther's fangs shrinking. " _Shit_."

Was she really worth the risk?

He could feel the air around somewhat, his _pesquisa_ not gone like originally thought yet hardly could compare to his original abilities. He sifted the reiatsu and bended their will to tell which direction each entity went. The _onna_ was with the _Shinigami_. They were together. Nelliel wasn't with them.

 _Where was that bi_ —?!

 _There_.

 _That's where she was_.

 _With_ _him_.

It was a decision made in split-seconds. Riling the reserve of power within to create a _sonído_ , Grimmjow snapped through the air like a bullet, sparks shooting off his spurs.

He had felt what she felt, the lure hypnotic as he trailed _that_ cologne, grinding his teeth as he thought how easily she'd been ensnared by the enemy. And _she_ was the _Tres_? Pitiful.

Another launch shook the air violently. Roofs became craters for his multiplying steps.

Grimmjow swore he felt a streak intensify in color at the last burst. The _Sexta_ was being baptized by humanity.

The Wahrwald was a blur as it cowed below, etched white with sin when he rose above it all.

His eyes grew in size when he felt his body jerk.

 _Sonído_ ceased motion midair.

A shout escaped as he fell, crashing into a roof as power rapidly dropped. He hit the Quincy structure with the full-force of a bomb, causing it to buckle and sway. It barely withstood the Titan-sized depression.

A gate of ash obscured the crash site, swirled from the updraft of Grimmjow's wrath.

Fingers dug into shingles with a razor-edged move, nearly slipping from the eaves because of frost. Grimmjow grit his teeth in anger than from the fear of falling.

He'd hit the benchmark in his reserve.

" _Damn it_!"

With a swift move he recovered and found the roof under his feet, searching the Wahrwald. He'd been at least fifteen meters above the ground. He was lucky only a scratch tore his jacket from the impact. From there he moved forward.

The Love gun was discarded between a marble banister and a toppled effigy. Farther up the location device rested against a stained glass window, hard to notice if the cracked hearts didn't glow at that moment.

He grabbed it, the wrecked device humming in his grip. He snorted at the piece of trash.

Grimmjow felt like an idiot as he asked, "Tell me where Nelliel is!"

The tin responded with a mechanical chirp, the hearts' line-up growing in strength. He swung it about like a compass hoping to pick up her faint reiatsu. They changed from pink to orange as he walked, hearts ascending in order from small to large in more frequent surges the closer he neared.

His path forked in opposite directions, knowing both lead to danger by the feel poisoned energy left on his skin. The location device glittered yellow as it told him which way to travel.

The road would be dangerous, difficult when the time came. It was an easy challenge—he was the _Sexta_! The _Panther King_ , Reio be damned!

So why was he hesitating? The sensation permeated around him, tasting the blood he'd eventually find in his mouth.

The device persisted with its harping to seek Nel.

Grimmjow smirked at the feeling of uneasiness as it collapsed into his chest.

" _Jericho's Route_? Can't be too hard if we survived over everyone else."

Yellow glowed from his palm, flames of phoenix wings guiding him to the end.

* * *

 **Side note:**

 **In Jesus' time the Jericho-Jerusalem road was notorious for its danger and difficulty. The road is most renowned for its appearance in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Wanted to get this out on our favorite Panther King's birthday. Thank you everyone for your supportive comments! :3**


	10. Part IX

**_Welcome Back!_ SO. We all unfortunately know what happened at the end of the series—none of these characters showed up! I don't necessarily blame Kubo so much but I still wonder what would have happened if he'd brought them back by the end. For now I hope this story can suffice. I tried blending chapters 662-666 to recreate what happened in the canon (what Nel saw) and what could have been. The beginning is also like a recap from Nel's perspective from the previous chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _The Crusades_

" _He's right you know."_

" _Shut up."_

" _The road will only be more perilous the farther we travel. We're stronger as a unit. He wishes us to stand as one. Otherwise . . . all will collapse."_

 _Nel followed the barren street until daylight grew in strength, rapid bursts from the tin device pulsing in her hand. Grimmjow stayed in the shade of the building, looking even older as the light played against his rough features. She eyed him cautiously. Despite knowing his energy waned, she wondered if Grimmjow would ever succumb to cooperation if his life depended on it. As if receiving an answer, his ill temper burned hot through vivid eyes. Caring for the survival of this Arrancar—this Espada—was something she couldn't understand._

 _Nel turned away to spare herself. "Don't let it be like_ Jericho's Route _."_

" _What?"_

" _Another story. I don't have time to explain it to someone who won't listen."_

 _Grimmjow grinned. "It's not that I won't listen. I just can't stand the sound of your voice."_

" _Likewise . . ."_

* * *

" _Be firm not still along the path,_

 _Lest you find Jericho's wrath._

" _He pangs and waits, O, by the shore,_

 _To see you join him on the floor._

" _In the air, below the ground,_

 _He will come from all a-round._

" _Aye, Jericho's Route is where I'll stay,_

 _So long the King dies in the Crusade."_

The wind had rushed her over with a fine brush of hysteria.

Again the scent overwhelmed her . . . Ichigo's counsel would need to wait.

What brought her like a lure was hypnotic, putting the Espada into an irrevocable trance.

What reflected in her eyes was only a small dosage of what hell war would bring when antagonists clashed.

Nel was drawn to the chaos like an albatross to the ocean. She witnessed the gift ball deluxe and all the swag and vigor the Death Dealer placed on her comrades as nothing more than a spectator, too far to solicit criticism, too damaged to do anything more than watch the battle unfold.

This was one of many scenarios Kisuke planned for from the beginning, staying five moves ahead of the opponent to stay alive at every outcome no matter which way the game turned. The raging hive was a living monster as its genetic disorder corralled Urahara and Yoruichi into a deathtrap. The excommunicated _Shinigami_ was a bona fide genius and the female were-cat was cunning if not ballsy—surely either would find at least _one_ way to survive with their body parts intact.

Nel simply saw no way for them to survive unscathed.

A blind attempt to try and save them would instead kill her for lack of positive reiatsu. She waited with anticipation.

They would never escape from within. They would need a powerhouse to penetrate from the outside. She shut her eyes felt childlike emotions well in her chest. She selfishly wished Gamuza hadn't been stolen from her, stolen from either Espada. If either wasn't weakened they could—!

Nel almost felt guilt when the neurotic dome leveled down, unable to sense her comrades' reiatsu when Askin strode out from his cage slicking back his hair coolly, evening out his bracelets the way he thought they looked best.

Nel was mesmerized.

It went against everything she'd learned as a solider of Aizen's regime—she ignored the glaring swag and instead met face-to-face with one of the Vandenreich's elite.

There was wide-eyed astonishment on Askin's part when he saw her approach willingly, a teacup lifted to touch his mouth. He'd lucked out on the fight against Urahara and Yoruichi, the fifth war power and his pet trapped in his Gift Bereich. He'd surpassed the God of Thunder in that scrap, tethering her sidekick down thanks to three holy arrows. The Quincy hadn't known when the next attempt on his life would come.

Out of all powerfully odd beings Nelliel came in their stead. She was swordless and discolored and carried kitschy items. This was hardly a welcoming interlude while drinking black tea.

The fringe of mahogany hair moved with a toss of his head as he gestured openly to the sky and accepted his fortune. " _Oh well_. I'll take it."

Who but Askin Nakk le Vaar would be saucy enough to cripple a woman he found near invincible?

* * *

The yellow was so vibrant an eye shut out of aggravation due to its pulsation.

The _Sexta_ moved between the ruins as if he were _sightseeing_ , hardly enjoying such a stroll which lacked a body to drag, one to _kill_ for that matter.

For some reason the device lead him _here_ , a deserted acropolis and no Nel in sight. " _Piece of junk_."

Whosever domain this had originally been, it'd seen better days since the coming of the Quincies. Permafrost aged the open space, sky filtering through the broken temple and dousing gray rock with sprigs of sunlight. It did nothing to cleanse the unnatural chill.

This particular section ruled older than the rest he passed by. Perhaps it was an old killing ground which Reio's holiest deemed death when appropriate. What else would bring him to such a place? Grimmjow might be bordering on human curiosity—instinct told him otherwise.

With what time he had left, finding that tramp of an Espada would take forever.

" _So_. How's that immunity treatin' you?"

There was alarm in his frustrated eyes, turning sharply to the voice in question. His lips bared a snarl.

Askin was looking down from a pillar's perch, smug in his smile as his position while an arm draped over his bent knee. "That was _quite_ the show you gave his Majesty. Never thought a _Hollow_ could be a given a _schrift_. Cute device you got there. Looking for gold?"

Grimmjow turned his back on Askin and ignored him. "I don't have time for _you_."

"Oh. Well that's a shame. Figured you wanted to know what I was up to," and a dingy booklet popped into his hand, observing the passages without actually reading them. Askin merely did it to irritate Grimmjow for entertainment. Still the damn Hollow refused to blink in his general direction. He _tsked_.

Everyone was the same here.

He dropped to the hard surface, book tucked back into his pocket.

He put a hand to the side of his mouth to echo his words louder. "If you're looking for a crusade, then your journey won't last long!" Askin blinked with disbelief when the enemy refused to be goaded. His hand fell and propped on a hip. "You've heard about the Crusades haven't you? You _might_ have been alive then."

The _Sexta_ glowered at him in aggravation. Askin's form faded out of focus, like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. His glare was met with a smirk.

"Hm. Course you haven't. Been dead longer than you realize. I can see you being a Spartan in a past life, the way you swing your sword around. Your blood lust suits your aggressive nature. Though I don't see your sword currently." Then he strode forward, hot aura dripping off him like humidity after a summer downpour. Grimmjow recognized that mist. The Kiss of Death had been activated once more and Nelliel was nowhere in sight as the cloud closed in. Grimmjow swore.

Askin stretched out his palms as if giving thanks to the Almighty, aura growing from his hands like acidic suns. " _Let me tell you what it means_. There have been many crusades throughout the history of the world, but none have even come _close_ to what our Lord is about to do."Askin's gaze drifted when the memory returned, reliving the day Yhwach came upon his suicidal form, announcing Askin's heritage and a plan to change the world, carving the _schrift_ on his being which would keep the Sternritter going.

" . . . He's rejoined the Quincy legacy by returning to us. We took up the cross in allegiance that change will come." Askin cocked an eyebrow as he thought. "I guess if I were Haschwalth, I'd say that the _Shinigami_ who ordered our execution 200 years ago will be the ones on the other half of the scale this time."

There was a rapid flip and Askin's back was used as a launching point, stumbling forward when Grimmjow shot away from him.

"You just infect everyone you surround yourself by, don't you?"

Askin turned with an annoyed look.

The _Sexta_ was on the same pillar Askin had been on, staring down at him with a violent look as if trying to fry the atomic structure which kept his body moving.

" _Hmmmm_?"

Eyes narrowed. Grimmjow wanted to rip out his throat.

Unfortunately he knew he wouldn't stand a chance. Especially _now_.

He ran after the Quincy before because his destructive impulses told him to. To kill the enemy, see him through to his death.

That was the agreement with the Candyman.

He'd been given an opening to kill that physically deformed Quincy back in Hueco Mundo's sands once Kurosaki escaped—and he took it.

 _Inches_ away from killing _him_ too—and Urahara managed to weasel a contract and bound Grimmjow to it.

Of course he would try to find every and _any_ loophole to get out of the pact which he somehow agreed. So long as the caustic Espada's pride lived danger would not fall upon the cautious, if not cowardly, puppet master. Grimmjow was nothing more than another means to keep the brilliant _Shinigami_ another five steps away from death.

But now things had changed.

The will to _end_ this confrontation burned deep in the pit of his stomach, ironically churning through the muscle and tissue framed over his hollow hole.

He became acutely aware of how hungry he actually was.

The hunger was eating him from within. It didn't matter Askin was Quincy—he was still a _human_. The remaining twists of Hollow wanted to devour his soul, no matter how poisoned it was.

And now he had to _avoid_ the Quincy to literally survive. He'd die starving with or without those last drops of Pantera in his blood.

Grimmjow tossed his head as if to express his point. "I figured you out a while ago. Yeah you're tough, but you sure as shit don't have the balls to stand before me and take an actual _swing_. I get my hands on you _this_ time?" His eyes lit up with excitement. "I'm not gonna stop 'til I rip out your _heart_."

There was an edge of coolness to the Quincy, hardly shaking like a leaf in the breeze. But Askin tremored a _hint_. That was all Grimmjow needed to sneer and turn away, knowing who the bigger man was in the end.

There was a sharp sneeze, and the intensity in his eyes returned to the adversary below him, Askin running a finger back and forth under his nose as if it itched. There was a candid smirk on his lips, a glint of mischief in his brown eyes. "Sorry. Just found it funny that you still think you could beat me when your body hit the ground like lead. Earlier yesterday, wasn't it?"

Through the use of _hirenkyaku_ he leapt before Grimmjow, posed with hands on hips in search of the Espada's missing common sense.

A look of shock crossed his turquoise eyes and the _Sexta_ jumped clumsily away from Askin, finding the ground _fast_ as his human body collided with the Wahrwald.

Askin whistled and walked on the air as if he were stepping down an invisible staircase. He strode over to Grimmjow easily enough as he would walking up to a marble statue—without fear.

He squat over the _Sexta's_ possibly dead (more-than-likely embarrassed) body, waves of gray hair hiding the simmering blood vessels over his face.

"I'd say we're between a rock and a hard place, wouldn't you agree?" And that intrigued glimmer came back, cocky and eager as he watched the graying human try to breathe. He eyed the fallen locks with candor. "Not to say I think you look more unique, but that's a better look on you. Not as terrifying while you're _beating_ the crap outta somebody."

The _Sexta's_ eyes narrowed with heat. Lightning-fast Grimmjow swiped at the Quincy, open palm with black tapered claws barely scratching Askin's tunic.

Askin parked himself on a felled Romanesque column, cheek in his palm as he watched Grimmjow's desperate exposition hardly wear out. It was dreadfully annoying. " _Why_ can't you just die _elegantly_?"

The failing Panther king snarled, " _What do you want_?"

Askin gave him a sidelong glance, a pouting lip as he played coy. "As much as I'd love to see the new world be created, I still have to _wonder_ . . . what's this world gonna be like if you're still fighting against it? If you and your pretty friend make it _at all_."

And he got that temptation he'd wanted, that _look_ from his sharp blue eyes, the spark of destruction. The man was so easy to agitate.

Somehow Grimmjow stayed neutral questioning in his rough tenor, curiosity boring into Askin.

" _Where is Nelliel_?"

There was a ragged cough, then a hack. Both men turned in direction of the sound.

She clung to the temple's corner for support, watching the action despite herself. Long hair hid her face, doubled over as sickness strangled her insides. Nel wiped her hand from her mouth and continued forward, a spark in her watery eyes. " _You boys talkin'bout me_?"

Splotches of blood covered the earth where she roamed, her heel crushing it deeper into the mud as she pressed toward her partner. Grimmjow muttered, "You're losing blood."

"It's nothing I can't handle," Nel replied breathless.

The look in Askin's eye was one between disgust and amazement.

Nelliel was incapacitated.

He'd looted her tools. The weird excuse for a bubble blowing gun was thrown. _Far_ away. The chrome tin reminded him of one of those chimes that echoed when shaken. It refused sound, Askin leaving it on a sill as he walked by. The untitled leaflet was another matter.

 _Askin's eyes skimmed over the text at a hurried rate as if reaching the climax, excitement taking over his senses and letting the story infiltrate his mind. "Ooh!" Pages flipped and flipped; he reached the eight tale within minutes, quickly hit the ninth_ _soon after. He slowed his reading pace, lifted a penciled eyebrow to the text about the evil king. Then he finished and shut the book, disregarding the final tale._

" _Hmph."_

 _The woman was curled on the ground, breathing heavily as she tried to fill her lungs. A hand was on his hip as he reopened the ninth tale, looking scholarly as he snapped to the page, thumb used as a bookmark. Askin gestured openly to the passage. "Now this was the most fascinating tale out of them all," and he smacked the title with the back of his hand. "The_ Children of Fortune _. An evil king who wishes to conquer the world . . . and Death's misfortunate infantry." His look at her was smug, slipping the booklet into his pants pocket. Askin knelt over the Tres' crumbled form, crushing her windpipe just from the presence of his Death Dealing. "I couldn't tell you who's more resilient—you or Yoruichi_ _Shihôin. Either way—" and he stood back up to his full height, shadows painting his face with ghastly demeanor — "Lord Yhwach_ must _read this. You don't mind sharing a bestseller, do you?"_

 _She choked out something as Askin gave a wave of farewell, missing whatever she whispered._

How she'd managed to stand before him _at all_ was stunning. With or without blood trailing from her mouth.

Askin commented on the sight before him like a spectator hosting a sports rally. "And here we are again folks: Two creatures unable to die willingly. Enough chitchat," he clapped his hands together, "If you two don't mind, I've got a date with the big man," and Askin patted his pocket where the book fit snug. "Until next time, _freunde_." He gave a sarcastic salute with two fingers and disappeared from their senses, the Quincy escaping Grimmjow's clutches _again_. A howl of discontent escaped when Nel trudged forward.

"We need to find the others. We need to get back to the _Silbern_ , that's where he's taken it."

"Taken what?"

" _My book_. Askin took my book. And he's going to show it to Yhwach."

"You let him take it?!"

Nel gave him a pointed look. Grimmjow returned her vibe. "So what should we do? I'm not interested in a _second_ suicide mission."

The _Tres_ looked up at the frozen cocoon forlorn, watching it as if waiting for black shadows to detonate. "Mr. Urahara's plan is failing. We must join together with the others or else we'll die before we get the chance." Nel suddenly exclaimed, "I must get to Ichigo! We need to find—"

"—Don't you mention _Kurosaki_!"

"We _need_ him!" Nel shouted back in frustration, likening herself back to a child. "We need everyone _together_! It doesn't matter how much _you_ hate! We're _nothing_ without the help of the _Shinigami_!"

Grimmjow stalled, enraged. He stopped abruptly and smashed the location device on the ground, gears and cogs rupturing without like organs in an autopsy. Nel was brought to silence as their hope of finding Halibel shattered. Something reflected within his eye as he frowned at the spontaneous decision, an appearance of hurt as he looked away from her.

"We're even. I'm not doing you any more favors."

"Oh, my. I really should have made that _destruction_ proof."

The voice made Grimmjow even more on edge, and if he'd been in _r_ _esurrección_ Grimmjow's ears would have flattened to express his displeasure. "The hell happened to _you_?"

The figure was hardly out of the shadows and wheezed like a man who had been inches from death not long ago. Kisuke Urahara appeared from the bellows of battle with his own scars to bear, bloody straps lining his cheeks and hands mauled by something unnatural. Pale blond locks shielded his face in replacement of his famous striped hat. Even the oak cane carried splinters and whorls as he used it to climb over debris. Between the three of them, he was looking worse for wear.

"Mr. Urahara," Nel expressed, openly surprised the scientist managed to walk out of the monster cocoon alive. Her relief for him nearly overshadowed his partner's absence. "Where's Yoruichi?"

"I'm afraid she's a little more beaten up than I am. Letting her and her brother recuperate is the best medicine I could offer," Urahara said, appearing a little out of touch as he frowned at something only he knew. "I felt the jolt in reiatsu and came to see what Askin was up to this time." Urahara gave a sigh as he sat on a cornerstone, exhaustion overcoming the war power. Whatever Urahara breathed in took its toll on him. Urahara had bloodshot eyes and looked nearly blind from blood.

Grimmjow's facial expression hadn't changed.

"If you're going to be civil with us, start thinking of a new way to kill that guy. I'm not gonna pity your sorry ass. You lost. We _all_ got our asses handed to us by that asshole."

Urahara stayed silent for a moment, labored breathing the only sign he lived. Grimmjow nearly threw curses at the man when Urahara spoke up. "I didn't sense you nearby. I hardly sense _anything_ from you, actually."

The _Sexta_ folded his arms while Nel remained quiet. "The hell's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I knew this battle would be trouble from the get-go. Judging from everything that's happened, I can tell Yhwach did a number on you. I don't need to be _blind_ to see that." Grimmjow sneered. "When I felt Askin's Death Dealing fluctuate, I only felt the tiniest motion that the opposite reiatsu might be related to that of a Hollow. An amoeba compared to a whale."

Urahara used his cane to rise as an old man would.

"We need to put an end to this once and for all. Find Mr. Kurosaki. Gather _anyone_ who rebels against the Quincies."

"You _bastard_ ," Grimmjow snapped as if slapped in the face. "Now _you're_ saying Kurosaki's our only hope?!"

"Mr. Kurosaki is a unique specimen. A rarity amongst all creatures, living and dead." Urahara said this as though he knew something the rogue Espadas didn't. "Ichigo is a lynchpin in the same respect where Reio holds balance over all realms. Without his uncanny abilities consider yourselves out of luck." His comment hit like whiplash.

Grimmjow stalked as if on the prowl, frustrated to even _think_ such an idea. Nel held nothing back, swooning over the teenager as the infatuated child within grew dewy-eyed at the thought of him. She sighed with a dreamlike speech, " _I knew Ichigo was special . . ."_

Grimmjow scoffed hotly. "Your affection for him will get us killed," he threw at her.

"I'll heal the two of you best I can. If you're to find your compatriot now, I'll need some time to recreate the trans-dimensional locator."

Such a generous offer nearly made the _Sexta_ gag. "What's in it for you, Candyman? Our agreement didn't mention _tune ups_."

Urahara admitted frankly, "Right now I'm very weak. To fight as we are now is foolhardy." The scientist took a moment to breathe, manipulating his stomach with an unseen kido to hold his sickness within. "I overheard the bit about your missing tome, Nelliel. I've heard of such novels existing across the six realms, yet never realized how knowledgeable it was until I spied upon yours."

The _Tres_ felt a tinge violated to have another belonging of hers be found and examined without her consent. Urahara's observation sounded sinfully thorough.

"If what's written in your book speaks true, Yhwach's power will be unmatched within a few days. His Schutzstaffel will be nothing other than urns for him to feed from until they've depleted, and we'll've had no choice but to ally ourselves with Death."

The phrasing made Grimmjow's superior hearing perk. He did _not_ just hear that. He approached with slow, deliberate steps, predator enjoying the moment just before the kill. "Come again?"

Without a second thought Grimmjow dropped immobilized. Nelliel had fallen to her knees, stupefied yet still acute to the goings-on around her. Urahara touched the _Sexta_ on the shoulder with a hand of liquid gold, soon arriving at Nel's side with his own healing incantation. "I apologize, but it was the only way to keep him still."

There was a groan from behind, Grimmjow rousing from the spell's dregs. "You know what must be done, my dear. If there's any way to contact you, I will."

As if to finalize his order, Kisuke finally looked at her full-on, a patchwork of large stitches reconstructing his disfigured, if not dead, face.

" _Go_."

* * *

 **Originally Kisuke wasn't going to be in the chapter (possibly not in the story at all). In reality though, I couldn't have him NOT show up either. I hope I worked his fight with Askin and the aftereffects into the chapter well.**

 **Also I brought Askin back again because, well, I think his character is pretty great. Before scans of 666 were released in America, I wondered if Kubo was going to do a small flashback with Askin [being that Grimmjow pretty much 100% killed him by punching out his heart, ouch] on how/why he became a Quincy and how/why he got his death dealing powers. Of course we didn't get that (unfortunately). Rereading the manga, Askin is witty, intelligent, and seems more developed than some-most-of the other Sternritters. But when creating a character that wit must come from somewhere. So I kind of thought Askin had something tragic happen in his past, a lost lover (I'm a romantic I guess aha) which triggered the death dealing powers to keep him alive when trying to commit suicide, which lead to Yhwach coming into contact with him.**


	11. Part X

**It's been a while since I last posted but ... yeah. Toats worth the wait. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Ties_

" _They're coming . . ._ "

Haschwalth and Uryû were stationed on opposite sides of the room, both sentries impervious to the noxious drink of power while awaiting the king's latest claim.

They were in the opposing dimension, where the Quincies existed for eons before the invasion of the Soul Society. The Soul palace was in control of Yhwach, as was Hueco Mundo. His world had been tamed by darkness for centuries.

 _He_ saw everything. And it was beautiful.

When the stars aligned in five days the prophesy of the Quincy king would complete. Power at its zenith, _He_ would reap God's light through the cosmos and collapse the barrier between worlds, destroying the line which divided reality from fantasy.

He knew who stood with Him and who defied His third eye's fateful gaze. He knew _who_ and _what_ came for Him.

He knew how it would all end.

The war powers meant nothing to him.

Ichigo Kurosaki would also fall during the acclimatization of worlds. A pity, _knowing He'd lose His son_ _during the new world's Crucifixion . . ._

. . . Uryû observed what he could from the corner of his eye, taking notice of how still Yhwach had become in this higher state of enlightenment. The young Quincy's mind strayed as he thought of his former associates, bound and gagged in some opposing dimension. There was a strong disconnect in reiatsu once Chad and Ganju were sealed behind the white Sun gate. He wondered if they suffocated behind it. Uryû wondered if Haschwalth bothered to keep them alive.

The Balancer raised his head and turned a multitude of dispassionate eyes on Uryû, ready to wage another war against the unfaithful teen.

"Still _doubting_ , Uryû? I do what his Majesty requests. _Always_."

He withdrew his claymore sharply and crossed to the opening before the Almighty's meditating form, stabbing it through the cobblestone aggressively as if it were made of margarine.

Uryû did not react, familiar to the unconscious personality switch Haschwalth experienced when the Yhwach slept.

" _This_ is where you stand. You're either _with us_ or _against_ _us_. No matter _what_ schrift his Majesty gave you, by the end you will—"

" _Haschwalth_. _Shut your mouth_."

The blond became quiet at once, a soft lamb's bleat spoiling his lion's roar. Both turned to the king, Yhwach smiling pleasantly beneath the shroud. " _We have a visitor_ —"

A mangled leaflet dropped into the opening without warning, gaining its own spotlight as the man who carried it remained somewhat aloof as to whether confronting the king with this crucial information was worth (the possibility of) death.

Shadows rose like storm-crested waves against the walls, coming one after another until a tsunami of uncontrollable reiatsu wiped the throne room with darkness.

Yhwach picked up the booklet and inhaled its pungent scent, knowing age and inner knowledge without needing to examine it. " _Ah_. What a _delicious_ find. Where did you acquire this, Askin?"

" _Oh_!" Askin Nakk le Vaar replied honestly, lifting a finger with critical importance upon telling about the ninth tale, adding enthusiasm about his confrontations when appropriate.

The turn of his Majesty's head was alarming as he listened with a keen ear. Yhwach smiled widely.

He remembered that story well.

There was a laugh unlike anything Uryû ever heard in his life, terror washing over him as if spiders crawled his bare arm.

"It seems Sôken _did_ take more than his fair share when he went _AWOL_."

Uryû was ghost-white as the blood drained from his face, veins invaded with ice when his grandfather's name dropped. Haschwalth hardly sniffed at the idea, as if he figured as much.

His fingers snapped and a Garganta appeared before Him, emblem of the Sun gate hovering above as a seal of protection while they crossed worlds. " _Gentlemen_. It's time we put an end to the fighting. _All of it_."

A dark eye stared at Uryû, iris flickering with the multitude of Quincy souls he'd reclaimed upon their failure.

" _Come, my son_. We put an end to all this misery tonight."

* * *

Footsteps echoed as they ran. There was arguing, berating between a man and woman who ignored the weight of stealth.

Outcroppings damaged the roads they traveled across, leaping over broken ice and rock fluidly as gymnasts would with minimal distress.

" . . . Can't BELIEVE you had the Candyman falling for that book of yours. I mean, come _ON_." He wanted to choke her for her stupidity on losing the book, his frustration evident as he tailed closely behind.

Bright eyes filled with mischief. Nelliel retorted with a comment about how funny he looked when Askin _poofed_ before him, gracelessly tumbling from the pillar like some drunken dolt.

A growl rumbled low and hungry, Nel's goofy smirk not helping his aggravation that she'd forced his hand to an awkward draw.

Grimmjow changed the subject, another thing eating him. "What the hell made you run off like that anyway? You don't strike me as a flighty chick."

There was no getting around that she had been hurt; Askin's poison wrapped her lungs tighter than a constrictor. Occasional spots of blood followed their journey, scent wafting to his nose. Grimmjow mused the idea Askin hadn't even been trying to kill Nelliel either—he'd made it clear he'd rather screw with the enemy first than kill them quick.

Nel thought for a moment, avoiding blown-out glass from a building crushed by massive _feet_. "While on my search for Ichigo I came across an idea. Our disagreement had me in the middle of rereading _Jericho's Route_ when reiatsu hit me. Something made me confront Askin, which I knew was illogical." Nel looked up toward the Silbern with unusual poise. "I believe he was meant to take that book."

Grimmjow scoffed. "Give it a rest. The _Hollow King's stories_ are a bunch of crap," mocking again the idea Barragan would have any such relation to her dynamic fairy tale.

"Believe what you will, Grimmjow. I think otherwise." The _Sexta_ snorted at her belief. A seriousness crossed Nel's eye. "Death has ties to us all. Didn't you ever wonder why Nnoitora failed to kill me?"

"Because he's a lazy fucker and you damn near have too much luck on your side to be considered a "killing-class" Hollow."

Nel eyed Grimmjow evenly, touching the scar along her nose. "I lost reiatsu through the crack in my mask and became a child. I lost everything including my memory. _That_ was a devastating fall, much too high to cover without _sonído_ or _r_ _esurrección_ influencing your movements. Not one of us died in that cataclysmic drop from Las Noches."

Grimmjow sniffed the air as if it would guide him to the direction of her stalwart _fraccións_. "Speaking of that, the hell'd your boys go? Run off 'cause they got scared?"

Nel ducked her head and pressed forward. What flew past him appeared like a sequin, glittering in the light only to hit the tarmac with explosive force. "They gave their lives for our cause. May you rest in peace. _Pesche_ . . . _Dondochakka_ . . ." Tears rushed from her cheeks silently as the loss of her _fraccións_ hit her in the chest painfully, hurting especially where the heart beat.

He let her cry. It would be easier to accept that way. It might even work in his favor to see Nelliel's primal instincts finally take over in the heat of battle against Yhwach.

Fractions were expendable, he'd said so himself. He'd lost five of his men, three more than Nel in one night. All passed within the span of an hour during his raid on the world of the living. Killed by the goddamn glorious _Shinigami_. It had been an absolute waste even if he enjoyed every second kicking Kurosaki's pompous ass. He'd lost an arm and was stripped of his rank. There was nothing more frustrating, more _humiliating_ than Aizen hardly giving two fucks about what Tôsen did to his soldiers.

Her men were freaks, outsiders doomed to protect a lame child. They had nothing, _were_ nothing but her lapdogs. And they still respected Nel, bowed to their master with undivided servitude after everything they'd been through. Together. At least they'd died for a worthy cause.

Nel sniffed and wiped her tears away. She said, "There will always be an overseeing power in Hueco Mundo. Barragan may have died elsewhere, but that's not to say he never returned. I believe Death is the reason I'm here today."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I've never felt his presence."

"He must be weak. It takes time for true kings to regain their right to proper rule. Hueco Mundo will always have a guardian until the end of time. No matter how close that may be."

Grimmjow _tsked_. "You pride yourself too much on this damn book. Legends and fantasies are one thing, reality another." Grimmjow did something unlike himself and spoke with an even voice, attempting to knock her skull with common sense. "You and I both know what he did, Nelliel. He basically raped us for fun and now we're dealing with the side effects. A word for the wise: _kill_ _or be killed_. Next time we face Yhwach strangle him with those _legs_ of yours. You've got too much skin showing for him to see _that_ coming." A turquoise eye roamed over her bare flesh with disgust.

Nel smirked. So he could make jokes even when he was serious. Good to know some humor staved the _Sexta_ away from insanity. She liked that immensely.

Truth be told there was a major difference between Grimmjow and Nnoitora, and not for the obvious reasons like strength in rank or differing height.

The sense of pride held in Grimmjow's chest was strong and gave her some glimmer of hope to pocket in her leotard, welcoming it as the stakes got higher, as the end grew nearer. Grimmjow wasn't one to give up in the slightest. He'd dig his claws in deep if it meant success or retribution— _anything_ to end the Quincies' reign. Anything to restore power onto him.

Nnoitora on the other hand was a callous and jealous kind of being which sickened her stomach whenever he attempted to showcase his impressionable skill set, especially to her, the only one who lessened the demon within and corralled his spite, knowing she made him mad by doing so.

He HATED Nelliel, hated her with such envy only when her peridot locks escaped his vision as she was thrown a mile down into the sand the emerald burst passed and pathetic relief washed over. She knew he would never feel regret for what he had done.

Then there was the man running beside her, the _Sexta_ keeping pace easily next to a woman sprinting in high heels.

Grimmjow couldn't stand her and she knew this well. _But_. The biggest difference between the male Espadas was Grimmjow understood that if they worked together they'd succeed. He might have crushed the reiatsu tracker under his foot; Grimmjow still came to Nel's aide. That was something admired to the highest degree. Value in trust was something unheard of between Espada and only found between master and subordinate, the Numeros and their _fraccións_. Gaining his trust was what she valued overall even if their relationship was unsteady. There was a quality within the man, though the harsh beast fought given any opening. Grimmjow hated everyone equally. Anyone who looked down their nose at him must be eliminated. She pissed him off—who didn't? Nel told him from the beginning.

 _You are my equal_.

That confession was possibly what still kept the _Sexta_ at bay.

* * *

Here they were again, staring at the monstrous gateway to an unknown future.

Battles with the remaining captains were coming to ruptured ends. Chad and Ganju were still missing, rocks clustered round their battleground like torn arteries. Rukia and Renji somehow found their way north, reiatsus strong and nearing the Silbern as they did, radiating the teenage duo with anticipation.

The palace had been rebuilt in the time held outside the box (Grimmjow's damage only a thick and violent memory), standing more impressive as ice sculptures gave grotesque fangs mid-melt in daylight. Gargoyles of garish mythology balanced both sides of the stairway they climbed, savage cries frozen by stone to ward off intruders.

Ichigo and Orihime gazed at the grand door as if it would open on a whim. The scored arc was all that stood between them and Yhwach.

Ichigo took a deep breath. "Do you feel that, Inoue?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's coming from beyond that door. He's in there. Waiting. So isn't Haschwalth. I bet Uryû's in there too." Ichigo's jaw clenched.

She remained silent as they gathered together what motivation they could. This king destroyed his friendship with Uryû, yet she knew he was still in there. Somewhere. Beneath all the bleached fabric and lies Yhwach persuaded him with. That's what he hoped.

The Quincy cross stared them down dispassionately, as if _it_ even knew the fate they'd find behind those closed doors.

The door withheld the immense reiatsu Ichigo knew Yhwach gained as a temporary god. Problematic as _that_ was Ichigo couldn't figure out if the remaining Elite, his soldat goons were also standing in the way. There was Haschwalth. Then he had to deal with _Uryû_ . . .

He then muttered something that surprised Orihime immensely. "You'll be in charge of defense. Don't let me down Inoue!"

Ichigo gave a sharp exhale and moved forward.

" _Let's go_."

"KUROSAKI!"

Screams derailed his intentions. Both found the figures running at break-neck speed toward them, nearly speechless at the sight. "Nel! Grimmjow!"

The _Sexta_ sneered, a smile sharp with fangs as he mounted the stairs with haste. " _Heh_ , don't seem so surprised, _mutt_. As if we would let you get to have all the fun."

Nel met across from the teens, panting slightly. She pointed to the door before them. "You are _not_ going in there alone! You need us at your aide."

The _Shinigami_ gave her a strange look, sorrow filling his brown eyes. "No offense Nel, but you were stripped of your powers! How can you help?"

And then Grimmjow did something he'd been _dying_ to do since he saw Ichigo alive and kicking. His fist crashed against the teen's cheek with a solid crack, knocking enough sense into the brat to have him crash into the girl's open bust, both screaming when flesh touched hot-red flesh.

"You haven't learned _anything_ have you, brat? We're your _guard dogs_ against Yhwach," he sneered.

"Kisuke sent us to protect you," Nel informed with gravity weighing down her words. "We can't explain it all now, but he needs you to fall back." Shock appeared on his face, mingled with anger. Nel held out her hand. "We're here to escort you and gather back-up. This crusade is _suicide_. You need to wait until the right moment. When the time comes we will protect you if Orihime's shields can't. We're warriors and we'll fight until we're dead."

Still the _Shinigami_ seemed unconvinced, unhappy to be given a real-life scenario. Nel touched where the heart beat in her breast. "Urahara healed us. We may not be at full power but we can evade and attack." Nel frowned. "We were born from demons, Ichigo. Let us hunt and slay this enemy with you."

Ichigo looked between Nel and her aggressive partner who, noticing the doe eyes, rolled his own and added, "What she said."

The _Tres_ gestured with her other hand to the Fullbringer, Orihime's eyes wide. "Mr. Urahara said your Separator can bring us back to the others. We only need to adjust the frequency." The girl pulled it out from her skirt and looked at the device wistfully.

Nel's open palm reminded Ichigo of something, possibly a memory. He wanted to revolt against the clipped warning; simply he was unsure what to do.

There was a pause, acceptance. Ichigo reached out to take Nel's hand.

Massive reiatsu shook the world and nearly sent the four on their knees in mock prayer.

Ichigo looked up, a gasp slow as it took all his breath to create within the tension.

Human eyes stared down at him, cold behind the glass frames bettering his vision.

"So sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn't home, _Kurosaki_."

Uryû Ishida could be described many things. Clever. Erudite. Tactical. Archer. Tailor—and a fine one at that if he got into specifics.

 _Traitor_ was a word that never tasted right in Ichigo's mouth.

Falling from the sky like a gift a sword pierced the bazaar leading up to the enormous stairway. Lightening blue eyes sought the blade, and _sonído_ reunited Grimmjow with Pantera. A sharp tug removed it from the marble.

What mulled behind the Quincy was intangible, dark. All light was drawn into the beast and discarded around Uryû like a ghoul's smog, nearly clinging to his uniform as it lurched forward with excitement and took a true form.

Haschwalth stood astride the horrific sight, cradling the phantom with a respectful nod.

Yhwach took form from the sleepy disguise, peering down at the weakened crew.

"My dear, _Nelliel_. You thought _this_ would be able to stop me." And He held something blank high above his head, Ichigo squinting to see what it exactly was. Grimmjow found Nel's face motionless, anticipating what she assumed would occur next if her intel proved correct via Urahara. " _You_ _thought you found something that would help you reveal the secret on how to eliminate me_." He hummed, amused. " _I've seen the future and nothing in this pitiful tome you acquired will be able to seize what I'm about to do_."

Then He called to his familiar. "Uryû."

"Yes, sir."

" _Do it_."

If there was hesitation the young Quincy did not reflect it, obeying his master accordingly. " _Yes, sir_."

"Ishida!" Ichigo screamed.

"Please Uryû, _don't_!" Orihime pleaded, tears welling into her eyes as her words fell deaf on his ears.

"Oh, _shit_ ," Grimmjow cursed as Nel shook her head with horror.

There was an intake of breath as the Quincy aimed, breathing it out slowly as he narrowed his kill-shot. The air around him grew distorted by waves of energy which glowed like blue fire. Uryû cried, " _Sankt Bogen_!"

With a rush his arrow shot at the small group and pierced the device in Orihime's hand, shattering her toy instantaneously. "My Separator!" Electricity crackled with live verve and sent sparks to dance up Orihime's body, nearly having a seizure from the intensity, forcing a pained scream from the girl. " _Ahhh_!"

" _Inoue_!"

Yhwach lifted his hand on high, a medallion emblazoned with the holy Quincy crest marked upon it. " _Sankt Ouroboros_!"

Five-point markings of Quincy design surrounded the small group, pierced marble glowing in the shape of a wayward star.

A portal within the sky opened and began to suck everything and everyone around it into the abyss.

Orihime was the first to be lifted by antigravity, Nel clutching onto the girl as if it would keep herself grounded within the turmoil. Long hair tangled and whipped each other's faces mercilessly as the sandstorm grew more chaotic. Nelliel floated weightless as she struggled, Shun Shun Rikka unable to grab hold on the surface. Within a blink the girls were transported into another plane, Inoue's cries whistling through the cosmos like a siren's wail.

Ichigo cried out her name again. " _Inoue_!"

" _It's about time you learned the hard truth to your ending reality_. _Let's see how you fair with only five days_ _left_." The king twisted to return inside his stronghold, yet made a gesture of remorse by looking back at the remarkable teen and his misfortunate infantry.

" _Do not cross me again, Ichigo_."

Yhwach tossed the book into the matrix, turning away as the world unevenly swirled and spat the creatures throughout the cosmos. The air above sucked hard, a black hole gulping the bodies into it as the background beyond changed so fast any place tangible—the human world, Hell, Hueco Mundo, Soul Society—all conjoined as one. A twister of disproportional size rotated and rocked, the winds whipping with incredible speed, picking up any loose debris and rock from the previous battles of Gerard Valkerie and Lille Barro. Bodies spun into the changing Garganta at speeds that nearly tore clothing if not limbs. Grimmjow and Ichigo were sucked in to the mouth, hitting the interstellar and disappeared into the void. Both vanished before the Quincies very eyes.

An explosion ended the portal's life, sealed in a circular formation. Uryû looked to the sky with awe.

Haschwalth stepped at his side, taking a look of his own into the abyss contorting above. "Be happy he didn't send them into Hell. The _Aüswalen_ would also have done worse. Then again, you _shouldn't_ even be attached to those people anymore. After all Uryû, you were supposed to sever your ties when this holy war began." Haschwalth eyed him venomously, glass blue eyes watching for a reaction from the chosen teen. "That was what you agreed when his Majesty collected you. How dare you ever befriend a _Shinigami_ ," the king's right hand scold, belittling with bitterness better suited toward a child.

Uryû said nothing and could only look higher than the heaven they stood upon, wondering where the ill-fated storm had taken them.

* * *

 **So. Much. _Hype_.** **Please recommend to others! Thanks!**


	12. Part XI

**Seasons greetings! Wishing all following+faving+reading to have a fun, safe, and happy new year! Here's to 2017!**

* * *

 _Define / Fate_

He normally hadn't bothered her, just left her slumped on the marble as consciousness faded in and out. Her energy was zapped continuously; the shackles about her wrists and ankles discouraged movement.

If she was a prize such a trophy hardly held any recognition of achievement.

Halibel was alone. She remained this way for many, many weeks.

They could've hurt her countless times in various ways— _horrible_ ways . . . yet none ever touched her. He either forbade it or made it impossible for any other to reach her. Not much crossed her mind while in limbo. She always thought about her girls, Apache, Sun Sun, and Mila Rose. She always wondered what the Quincies had done with the rest of the Arrancar and innumerable Hollows they came across. Were they also slaves, or did they kill them for sport? Halibel hardly considered herself _queen_.

What reason did Yhwach have to keep her alive, if barely?

To shake her from the trance He drew upon her, dark reiatsu filtering from the smoke which clogged her chamber. Her face was squeezed in His hand, lips puckered for a tart kiss as He spoke. He loomed like swollen clouds, darkness taking every inch of the forgotten space. His prominent nose and curling mouth was all she could distinguish of her captor. " _Your friends are attempting to break my reality_."

Colored spheres lined up side by side behind him, sharp cracks like in a game of billiards when the orbs hit an invisible mantle which kept them afloat.

One was of a faded yellow, another of sharp green. Sky blue hovered next to one of an orange sunset; a shady forest green gleaming next to one clear as a drop of dew.

Each color represented one person.

" _When they extinguish a comrade of yours has died. Know that few are trying to find you. Know that they will die before they ever find you_."

He smiled blissfully, knowing the outcome.

He released Halibel's face and swept himself away, a swish of curtain and down the flight of stairs.

The _Tres_ gritted her teeth, tugged on the chains keeping her down. Without her tipped blade she couldn't return to her original form. She was stuck in release and would remain this way until He decided what to do with her. Being closer in likeness with the human form drained her spiritual energy, not enough to make a great impact, but enough to keep her fragile.

Whoever sought Halibel they were wasting their time. Granted, the idea kindled a warmth she hadn't experienced since her capture. Although Halibel was on the opposite side of the mirror—she saw and knew this Juha Bach's ending as well as he foresaw. The world was _disgusting_ , ripped and copied to create an alternative only _He_ saw fit. Her fraccións, Sun Sun, Mila Rose, Apache, they were all she cared for in this world. They were the reason she was still alive. It was a _choice_. She chose to stay alive despite what these foul creatures had done to her kind.

There was only _one_ she knew strong enough to attempt a jailbreak on her behalf . . . but he would _never_ do such a thing to help her. Even as she thought about the stalwart _Sexta_ , Halibel imagined the sky-colored and earth-toned orbs drop moderately.

* * *

She heard a voice. Calling her, beckoning with a gesture toward the tune.

Las Noches' ever-blue sky dome filtered between her lashes, integrating artificial light with gaps of darkness where the canopy fell above. Miles of endless sky crumpled in beaten patches, trampled by giant creatures from Hueco Mundo's side of the dome.

Her body lounged in the sand like a beach-goer attempting to get the perfect tan. Her hair had been splayed round her like a discolored halo, each strand an odd cybernetic tint that stood out on the white-beige sand.

She inhaled sharply and coughed with enough force to bring up clotted blood. She began to choke on the muck as it frothed from her mouth. " _Ack_!"

"Oh? _Oh_! Oh, _dear_! _Master Nelliel_! Master Nelliel! Are you alright?! Dondochakka come here at _once_!"

Creatures of defining size and shape rushed Nel, pincers protruding from the bone-white mask of one, hands the size of tree stumps rolling her to the side so she wouldn't suffocate. Nel vomited enough blood to fuel the creation of a newborn. She sighed and found herself out of breath, and exhausted. Her throat was stripped raw by stomach acid.

They helped her sit up—that is, they threw her upper body forward until her face nearly touched her feet. " _Ow_!"

" _Careful_! We don't want her to break in _half_!"

"Don't yell at me! I was jus' tryin' ta help!" With that the _fracción_ pounded her on the back, forcing more blood to erupt from her lungs.

" _No_! Dondochakka!"

Nel wheezed and put out her hands to stop anything else her _fraccións_ might find "helpful." She peeked at them from the hard angle she was placed. "Pesche? Dondochakka? You're alive?"

"Aha! Yes! Of _course!_ The Great Desert Brothers will always be here at your command!" Pesche gave a thumbs-up and stood with a heroic stance. He and Dondochakka bowed graciously as Nel brought herself to a comfortable sitting position.

"You're being so formal," Nel said curiously.

" _Aah_! Well. We weren't . . . Well. _Ahhhh_ —"

"Pesche and I weren't sure if you would still be . . . _you_ again. Not after another fall." Dondochakka looked at her sadly through his big eyes.

"Hm. I could understand that. After all, it was you two who took care of me for so long." She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them to her bust tightly. She looked up at her men thoughtfully. "I don't know if I ever got a chance to thank the two of you. You're true guardians, even after all these years."

"Which is why we've come to tell you that you need to get up." Nel frowned, her hazel eyes wide with confusion. Pesche gestured with his hands as if pleading. "Master Nel, that man is going to rewrite the universe unless you can stop him. Even Ichigo Kurosaki won't be enough."

"Hey Pesche, that girl looks like she's in _really_ bad shape."

"In a minute. Master Nel, we failed you. There is nothing more we can do other than offer guidance in your judgment."

He showed his empty hand toward something in the distance. From the sands she saw it sticking out like a peg, pages flapping against the remnants of the blast. " _The book_."

Nel pulled it out of the sandy grave, shaking the pages free of white particles.

Pesche said, "Use what He couldn't see rising from those pages."

"The subtext? But Pesche that seems—" Nel turned and met vast darkness, Hueco Mundo's silent moon offering nothing in response as to where her _fraccións_ disappeared. A violent gale shoved from behind and forced her to stumble, clutching the leaflet to her chest as she looked up to a nightmarish monster towering above her in the sky. With an insidious spread of influence and control he plucked this earth from that and brought the two together, smashing them between palms and let the hybrid seep from the space in between. A viscous goop dropped on the sand before her, a rotting flesh husk which sent Nelliel reeling. Black beaded eyes found her childish form from the carcass' jiggling surface, squishing itself closer as attraction and curiosity and hunger made it belligerent. Nel retreated, the book clutched to her chest tightly as the rotting husk advanced. She refused to look away; a glance elsewhere and the treasure she protected would meet Oblivion.

It sounded like _fat_ dropped onto a table, supple from red juice and wet from smacking lips suffering starvation.

Another drop fell from behind Nel—her heels, she'd stumbled— _twisting_ —!

Her eyes met with the rotted out holes of Ichigo Kurosaki's skull, matted orange hair pat down by foul liquid and splintered bone. She couldn't scream—not enough air to exclaim her horror. He'd been encased by another discolored husk, suckling bone marrow like a treat. All eyes found Nelliel frozen from fear.

Black nails skimmed down her arms like a teasing lover. A low growl pressed against her ear, aroused by the treat left just for him.

The blood which then sprout from her chest was incomprehensible, beating heart pumping the excessive remainder of fluid out until it sank into the murder's hand like ash. The claw which tore through her body grasped a full breast, burrowing his nails into the soft flesh so that she could not escape.

There was a soft laughter; he whispered in her ear. "Just think of it: In the end you couldn't outrun death. Looks like we'll never be equals now."

There was a soft brush of lips to her shoulder, then he bit _hard_ —

—Nel stirred, sat up inebriated, blinking until her blurred eyes could see.

She looked side to side but found no other soul aside herself.

Her hand caught her dazed head, skull _aching_ , wishing for someone to tell her what happened.

The pain was constant, and the dream dissolved as all eventually do.

A voice called out, a command for power. She looked up.

Orihime was close by, stumbling in the distance, twirling and . . . tumbling? The girl spun like an erratic top. Nel didn't understand at first why the sand was gouged in red.

Nel wearily looked up and found that the dome above spiraled with disturbing waves, coiling sharply to a point until it all but faded away. Las Noches' ever-blue sky was cracked, canopy crumbling as Hueco Mundo's darkness sank through.

Nel came to her senses only after the image of a seal christened the artificial ceiling with ill-borne aura; rushed to her friend's side with _sonído_ sprints.

" _Orihime_!"

The girl clutched a hand to her ribs, finding her palm painted. Her face had been damaged, a wound along her hairline, bruises accompanying it. Electric burns creased her top at wild angles, skirt finding its own jolts where the shock hit her. "No, I'm fine," she said as she tried to ease the pain. "I'm just clumsy. When I fell I must have hit a rock or, or _something . . ._ "

Nel caught the girl in her arms as Orihime appeared to faint, the gash in her side ruining her clothes. It was a wound hard to look at. "Can't you heal yourself?"

" _I_ -I've been _trying_. One of my hairpins got cracked in the fall. They can only come out if I call them, but not for long. The gash was worse before— _ah_!"

"Don't move. I'll try to bandage you. Sorry about your skirt."

And Nel ripped it in shreds, giving Orihime a skirt which rested at her knees, a slit up her thigh when Nel ripped more than she needed. "Oops."

The Shun Shun Rikka activated with sparks, zooming around Orihime's ribcage to reanimate the flesh and regenerate muscle. Shunô and Ayame barely rested above her stomach when the glow fractured, the two little creatures flitting about unsure how to help.

They moved above her head with an attempt to rein their power at full-blast, yet again they shattered, returning to the blue flowers opposite each eyebrow. "It's no use. They just won't work!" Orihime was crestfallen.

Nel stood to gain a view of their surroundings. Since Las Noches had been reclaimed by the Hollows, there was no telling when one could pop up from beneath the sand and devour them. There was also the problem with the Quincy collectors, the _sammler_.

And with the amount of blood between the girl and the sand—

"We need to get to higher ground." Nel scooped up Orihime without struggle, gasping at the suddenness of her strength.

"But! Nel! What about your reiatsu? Leave me and go find Ichigo, _please_!"

Nel puckered her lips and _tsked_. What a damsel in distress!

She soared above the dunes like a rocket, leaping to higher ground with decent speed. "I'll catch up with Ichigo once you're healed. I won't abandon you, Orihime. We're friends after all." And she smiled at the pretty girl, whose eyes widened gradually with adornment, suddenly in terror.

If only Nel had seen the grotesque Hollow going in for the kill.

" _LOOK OUT_!"

* * *

There was groaning. Plenty of it.

He felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach, his head banged around with rocks. He hurt everywhere. Standing was a struggle.

And somehow Ichigo Kurosaki managed to survive when his life faced peril once more.

Wind threw itself at his back to throw him off balance, forcing him to pray to the violent god.

An explosion happened from the sky at a great distance beyond the darkness. It travelled out like a violent whirlpool, winds rotating at such a velocity the clouds transformed to lilac twists. The sky filled with great golden light as if a sunlit orb hung from a singular strand. The turbulence sent Ichigo flying, clinging to an uprooted quarts vine while sand stung his eyes. He stabbed Zangetsu's tighter blade into the shifting earth, hoping to relieve the stress of being swallowed under. An electric clap illuminated the mile-high walls and thundered deep, shaking the world he found himself in. Cyclones of dust contorted and cornered the _Shinigami's_ scrappy hideout, laying the boy to rest by burying him.

The storm ended, world calming until the sands began to shudder once more, particles sliding off his shihakusho.

" _Gah_!"

Ichigo popped up coughing and spluttering; sand had made route to his esophagus and tipped into his lungs as he clambered out the grave. Ichigo sprinted to where he saw the hurricane loom, mind racing with panic. " _NEL_! _INOUE_!" His eyes raked the sky, unveiling both blades as he raced toward the nuclear blast. " _INOUE_!" He continued to call out their names despite the sound crushing his voice. It looked as if it were readying itself for another attack on the world. It would kill the girls if he didn't make it in time! " _NEL_!"

He didn't feel the presence behind him when a hand gripped his collar and yanked back with a harsh tug. " _Ugh_!"

Grimmjow grabbed the scruff of Ichigo's hair as fast as ever. "Don't move, _brat_ ," and Pantera aligned with his throat. "It's nothing but a mirage." His eyes were dead-on Ichigo, a flick of his chin indicating the ripple effect of the blast now engaging them at high speed.

Ichigo's eyes blared wide open, except it was like seeing through a glass window. The sand crashed beyond and towered like storm waves against a jetty, never reaching the _Sexta_ or the substitute. The imbalance teetered like a scale, adjusting the weight until all settled back down to its original stasis. Then the world resumed order.

Ichigo blinked, confused. "What happened?"

"You're looking at a reflection of _our_ entrance. It's something Aizen created to document irregular activity within and outside Las Noches. The _casa del espejo_ wasn't active much. Not until the Quincies showed up." He released Ichigo, returning Pantera to its sheath though he wanted the boy dead.

Ichigo was lost. "Then . . . where are Nel and Inoue?"

Grimmjow shrugged, couldn't care less.

Ichigo grasped his jacket, tugging it toward him. " _Where are they_?!"

"Lost in the void. Do you think I have a map? We split off because of Yhwach." He gazed into the desert, appearing distant and inconsiderate though Ichigo knew he was deeply frustrated. "There's no way of knowing if they're alive or dead. All I can do is try to finish my _contract_ before this body gives out." He looked into his palm, the small flutter hardly creating any sense of relief.

Kurosaki was struggling to keep his grip on the situation, fist shaking as it clenched the jacket's lapel with enough force to make Grimmjow nearly give it up because the kid _would not_ let go. "Don't forget. I'm not on your side. I'm here to kick Quincy ass. Not save yours."

The _Sexta_ sneered and knocked his hand away, brushing Kurosaki's filth from his jacket. Grimmjow distanced himself from the teen, folded his arms as he stood on a ridge and looked into Hueco Mundo's vastness.

Ichigo searched around in his state of paranoia but found nothing helpful. Ichigo could not sense either's reiatsu. He called to his classmate; shouted for the Capricorn knight. Neither appeared. Ichigo grew weary by the minute; the strength of both fighters in both parties had been divvied by the Quincy king . . . whatever kind of power-up he'd used in the rift pushed the limits of the _Shinigami's_ psyche. He thought of Uryû's betrayal, Orihime's electrocution replaying in his mind's eye . . . " _INOUE_!"

" _Be quiet_!"

Grimmjow was far yet a hellish look burned through his cold blue eyes. An aggravated groan escaped as he returned to what he was doing. The _Sexta_ grew petulant, fingers tapping against his bicep as patience waned.

His head tipped from side to side as if he were listening to music, enjoying its beat greatly. Ichigo even thought he heard lyrics fall from Grimmjow's mouth. His tall frame hung a shadow against the rippled sand, growing the longer he waited for what wasn't making itself heard. Maybe Ichigo only imagined it; the light never changed in such a creation as Las Noches.

Grimmjow's head suddenly swung right, eyes narrowing to something in the dunes. He was over the crest chasing whatever piqued his interest and Ichigo _ran_. Letting the _Sexta_ out of sight at any time was a death sentence—he'd already caused enough trouble when he pursued Askin!

Ichigo reached the top to find Grimmjow far-off in the dunes, kneeling in the middle of a remote adobe hued plot. With _shun-po_ the substitute arrived in two steps.

The site was much different than Ichigo expected, an oasis of spiritual tranquility which fixed itself to his soul. A triangular pattern marked the foundation to what could've been a shrine but there was no icon of worship. Stout pillars facing off at each point shroud themselves in secrecy, for even they shunned what this place represented. Carved vines directed Ichigo to investigate elsewhere, suggesting outside and _away_ from the holy space they disturbed. The site must have been important though—the _Sexta's_ head was _bowed_. And not due to submission. That alone astounded the _Shinigami_.

Grimmjow spoke in a language foreign to Ichigo, something dead like Latin. He picked up a fistful of sand and let it run through his fingers as he stood, overlapping syllables with strange hand gestures reserved for a shaman performing a rite. The Spanish became more fluent as his voice rose over the slowly turning sand, wind tangling to create a mild tornado before him.

It brought a strange humor to mind, the blue-haired man giving a sermon and offering peace instead of violence to his clergy followers. Unfortunately Ichigo highly doubt Grimmjow had been a priest in his past life . . . the gray streaking through his indelible rocker's cut did change how the _Shinigami_ perceived this fallen Espada. Ageing rapidly, Grimmjow's body quickly lost its stature, his constant aura slipping.

The three points of the trinity glittered, twinkling with an irregular pattern. They buzzed as if struck by love, a warm, gentle noise which offset Grimmjow's actions.

He ended with finality: " _Abrir_."

He stamped his heel and a well shot up from the center, white-blond dust trickling from the ancient stones. The buzzing faded into a low hum but Grimmjow didn't seem to notice. He merely stared at what raised itself when called.

" _Whoa_ ," Ichigo expressed. It was an odd find in the middle of empty desert, no indication something hid below their feet.

He joined the _Sexta_ ' _s_ stationary form, gingerly stepping over the boundary where the colorless sand and adobe met.

Ichigo was unsure how to describe the well as he made his way toward it for it really wasn't a well to begin with. The basin sat just below his navel, a heavy looking thing crafted to appear more elaborate than it really was. There was no drop into darkness below them, no bucket for water. It certainly couldn't grant wishes. The basin was tipped for liquid to be drained, a small triangular dip in its bronze center. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

" _A payment_."

Grimmjow hiked up his sleeve and swiftly raked four uneven rows of red, blood wildly seeping up like live wire. Ichigo grew alarmed.

Grimmjow smirked at his distress and said, "It only takes blood of the _impure_. You're the _savior_ ," he quipped with sarcastic flair. "Yours won't work." Grimmjow squeezed the blood down his arm, forcing red to drip into the basin.

"But what does it _do_?"

"Ask another question, _won't ya_?" He pressed his veins and frowned at the sting. Grimmjow spoke bluntly. "I'm asking for directions. It'll show us which way to travel."

Ichigo stared back at him incredulous.

" _Travel_? To where?! We should be searching for Nel and Inoue! What if they're here and we just haven't found them yet?"

"And if they're not?"

He let that sink in.

Good blood rich in red filled the bow until Grimmjow felt it'd be satisfied. The fickle creation slowly drained his offering into the center.

He grumbled, "Nelliel's a wild card. Don't think she was put down so easily. She might be in the same situation as me but that bitch is _strong_. If she's smart, we may meet her along the way." His words were tight-lipped, angry; a fire roaring in his stomach and the smoke just starting to roll out his teeth.

" _Kurosaki_. _I'm gonna let you in on a little_ _secret_. Remember what I said about Urahara? Well boy, does he have a _thing_ for you. Your unique glow sent him in a tizzy, which means _I_ have the displeasureof staying at your side." He spat. "Despite this misfortunate incident of being stranded with you of all damn people I still have a task—I don't care what you think or feel." Grimmjow aimed a thumb back at himself. "I'll be _damned_ if I stay any longer out in the open, so _take my advice_ — _FORGET_ about the girls and start thinking about _yourself_!"

The red pool was nearly empty. What reflected was a disorienting picture; Grimmjow hardly recognized the predator he'd once been. The replicated image was an insult. He talked into the emptying blood pool, speaking really only to himself. "In the end humans only care for their own wellbeing anyway."

From the bellows of the well it haunted, primordial mystery generating a ghostly breath before the _Shinigami's_ eyes

A red mist filled the air before Grimmjow's face which he willingly inhaled, its scent irresistible. It took a moment to understand what he felt as he'd been hypnotized. Grimmjow breathed in a vision, the apparition conducting a trial over his incarcerated mind.

What Grimmjow could not see, Ichigo did. And the _Sexta_ was playing with _very_ dangerous magic.

Whatever positive deity he thought granted this place its power and influence surrounded Grimmjow with a greedy leer, feral and feline by its tricky sharp grin, the foggy dweller transforming into a demon as it tasted its offering off Grimmjow's shredded skin.

Ichigo revealed his blades at once and readied his stance. The hungry spirit's golden coin eyes flickered at the _Shinigami_ 's weapons with distaste, although refused the fearful temptation of battle.

Instead by unconventional luck it faded back and returned to its home inside the well, leaving the _Sexta_ asleep where he stood. It lingered somewhat in the air, last remnants refusing a swift exit.

Grimmjow opened his eyes and found himself rejuvenated.

He started off in a direction that could have been north or east, maybe west. He disregarded the well, it sinking back into the grave once he crossed the boundary line.

His fingers scraped along the edge of one pillar, following the vine's pattern until it gave a chalky paste. His tongue removed what blood remained and wiped the adhesive over the four lesions. Grimmjow's skin began to heal grossly, pustules erupting as his veins coagulated the blood. Much of it congealed on the surface like a fine scab but he accepted that. Another scar was the norm. Just depended on how he got it.

Much to his disliking Kurosaki followed. Mutt couldn't do a damn thing himself so _he_ had to be _gracious_ and lead the way.

They walked some number of uneven miles, the sealed star hanging within the dome never leaving the substitute's mind.

Ichigo followed Grimmjow like a blind devotee, frankly aware and unsure how long his silence during the _Sexta's_ abnormal voyage would last. From his farther vantage point they were going literally nowhere. Trees no smaller than hair ornaments did not change position the farther they walked, and the longer Grimmjow refused to speak with Ichigo the more the teen tried to understand the circumstances they'd been placed.

They'd barely passed a decimated stronghold when curiosity got the better of him, opening his smug little mouth and drilling stupidity into the _Sexta's_ eardrums.

"What did Yhwach mean when he spoke to Nel? What was he holding?"

"Just her diary. Probably read all the dirty thoughts that go through that pretty head of hers."

"But, she found a _secret_ on how to defeat him? _Grimmjow_ , that's _huge_!"

"Don't get cocky! There isn't any _secret_ so far as she's concerned. That book she put so much faith into is gone. It was swallowed up like the rest of us and scattered out for the adjuchas to find." Something within that sentence grabbed Ichigo strangely and Grimmjow roared in aggravation. "Nelliel's been giving me trouble since this damn war began. And I can't get any peace when I'm away from her because _you_ have to bring her up! _God_!"

He was evading the elephant in the room though he was pressed up against it. The questions Grimmjow refused to acknowledge for so long finally found disclosure when the _Shinigami_ stood his ground and insisted a response.

" _Grimmjow_. _What_. _Happened?_ What are you hiding from me? If this has to do with your pride then I refuse to go any farther with you."

That made the half-man stop, a deep breath overheard to keep the anger settled low.

Ichigo went on, "Mr. Urahara may want what's best for me, but not when a battle is brought at my feet. Or when _significant_ _clues_ on how to defeat the enemy aren't recognized because a party member won't give up information!"

He sounded so mature and so sure of himself.

Hands on his hips and Pantera close enough to be drawn, _he only had to do it and there'd be no more talking_ . . . Grimmjow could only bark laughter. When his sharp eyes found Kurosaki's, all the chill that filled his dying body shot to the teen.

"You want my life's story? _Hah_. _You're in for a ride ._. ."

* * *

 **The next chapter is going to take a step backwards so get ready! Cheers!**


	13. Part XII

**Hello all! Finally a long-awaited update! I took a bit longer than I wanted with this chapter, even missing my 1st year's deadline ( _by a month at that, oy vey_ )! I guess a 3-month delay isn't terrible . . .**

* * *

 _Rebel Yell_

It was a story small enough to fit inside an infant's cradle for he told Kurosaki little more than to watch his back and fuck off.

The time in between speaking could have allowed the teen to define what exactly fate was; the reason he'd been stranded in the broken heart of Las Noches with a mortal enemy, why Yhwach dismissed Ichigo again instead of fighting him one-on-one. Even if the teen realized fighting such a behemoth might get him killed Ichigo still was drawn to the king like a moth to light—the repressed Quincy blood in his veins squared off with his common sense.

Ichigo touched the budding welt on his lip from the impact, the swollen cheek thanks to the man he continued to follow.

The Arrancar-human hybrid carried across the Hollow world with equanimity as to how he walked in the past at full power—not giving a shit. Physically his body retained his prowess, stealthy like the were-beast within and moved proudly as a king would over the sands. His sure-footed strides lead both through battlegrounds of the past, red towers slaughtered or overwhelmed by those seeking to crush the enemy. His eyes were set on a prize in the distance and nothing would get in the way of that.

But the strength in his aura was weakening and Ichigo felt it. That was something which bothered him immensely.

Grimmjow had aged. He resembled more of a human now than he did an hour ago. His hair was the color of storm clouds without a streak of blue ever existing. He ignored Ichigo as much as he ignored the way his body transformed.

From the land hungry ghosts wandered and watched their hike in the distance, following their scent like wolves with blood in their nostrils. To a slinking Hollow _Shinigami_ were a treat rich in spirit to fill their gullets and warm bellies suffering from the constant emptiness inside. The inconsistent spirit energy coming from the creature walking so much farther ahead roused the monsters waiting even more so. The smell was of a Whole, subtle but deliciously fresh. Grimmjow was bait waiting to be eaten. They impatiently kicked up sand worse than a tempest oceanside in anticipation. Then all the same his raw energy scared the creatures too numerous but weak, and others too few and senseless to even attempt a sting on the mix moving through the desert portrait.

The _Sexta_ sensed them naturally. He hissed lowly and caused some to scatter off, frightened by his stare and the pull at his blade.

He noticed how the _Shinigami_ reacted cautiously, hands on the hilts of his own blades in case the monsters attacked. He gave a low chuckle. His aversion to the teenager kept Grimmjow moving forward, making himself believe Kurosaki would simply get killed off by the Hollows stalking them in the desert. That's what he hoped.

Their empty eye sockets followed both living creatures along the horizon, slithering and galloping away only when the leader eventually stopped.

Grimmjow knew the end of his path would take him to the edge of Las Noches, though it looked as if a giant's snow globe had smashed through the barrier between Aizen's lair and the Hollows' keep.

Shaped in the arc of a horseshoe darkness wept over the corroded wall, the blackness of the void as revered to the Espada as a veiled madonna of night. A thrill ran down his spine as he motioned toward the outside world.

"There's our exit."

There was a rumbling from below the sand, granules sifting and earth undulating as the echo of a quake roared beneath their feet.

Grimmjow barely had time to react when a massive Hollow exploded from the path he walked—its long neck twisting out the hole sporadically to bellow with draconic anguish. It was quick as a whip—it smashed its white bone mask against the _Sexta_ and knocked him into the expanse of desert with a cry.

" _Grimmjow_!"

He flew _fast_.

Grimmjow grabbed at the air intent on finding reishi to slow him down, struggling greatly and grit his teeth for the impact.

The trick worked, bouncing off the dunes with less force.

He landed eagle-spread on his back, the scab on his inner arm raw and exposed, garnet splashed across his clothes.

A flick of the wrist cut a shard of its mask at the corner. It was a shallow wound, not enough to kill it; he'd done more damage than he received. Still the blow hurt. The possibility of a cracked rib or two made his movements to rise slow.

He watched the Hollow writhe and dance and stamp from his far-flung position, snapping its jaws at Kurosaki while the boy evaded smoothly. He slipped under its tail with a bend that likened him to performing the limbo. Kurosaki marked up the Hollow good before delivering a final blow, swift in his movements of killing it from behind as he was to jumping at the next monster. Grimmjow couldn't see clearly from this distance yet saw how Kurosaki used the blades together and individually, how he used them as an extension of his body to cut into the Hollows seeking to devour him. The unbridled talent pissed him off to the extent of minimal jealousy.

Pantera's hilt fit loosely in his hand though it mattered little. Without that half of his soul fighting these mindless pests was irksome, tiresome. Grimmjow had nothing to be thankful for other than gaining a damaged weapon in arcane _Quincy_ territory.

His eyes shut with an attempt to harness the minimal reishi he'd gathered.

He imagined his pet swirling around the blade angrily, showing its fangs and snarling for him to move. It stirred itself around like a kid mixing the chocolate in their shake. The cat never relaxed. Eyes locked on its paling master, Pantera's ghost hissed in disgust.

 _Some king_ , it seemed to say, spitting the words from its fanged maw with the arrogance of royal blood.

Grimmjow's blue eyes stared listless up at the sky-dome's cracked ceiling, starred fissures breaking apart the clouds.

He rose and took a sharp breath, tucked some loose white scraps back into his jacket to keep them secure.

He swung his blade out and caught rocks in the blast from his fury, silencing the mirage. " _Fuck off_."

Grimmjow charged at the Hollows engaging Kurosaki. Even with what reiatsu remained there was no chance in hell he'd let a _gillian_ get the best of him—much less let Kurosaki clean up the mess.

Without _sonído_ he was still deadly fast, heating up the sandy surface enough to create divets of glass.

As he ran the sand shifted again. He felt a snag at his ankle and it tugged back, forcing Grimmjow to hit the plain. A loop had hooked him in its snare and yanking against it caused it to tighten.

The snare dragged him over the sand with a quick jerk—tangling up his leg until it tightened round his torso, crunching his ribs like pretzels. Forcing the _Sexta_ to struggle uncomfortably Pantera slashed at the tentacle but drew no blood. It pressed him to the earth and strangled him there.

A monster rose out from one of the dunes he'd flown over, a twin-headed Hollow ugly and screeching at its prey excitedly. The tendril had been launched out one of its mouths, long tongue wrapped around his body and tasting every inch of his blood- and dirt-crusted clothes. It lifted Grimmjow into the air and shook him left and right to try and disorient the _Sexta_ while the other head snapped at the locations it placed him. The Hollow fought with itself like chicks clucking over a worm in their nest. The free head clipped a part of his jacket with its beak and tore the white-black collar.

Pantera dropped to the sand upright like a strong sapling. "Shit!"

It slammed him up and down like child beating a ragdoll. The tongue had him locked in its wet grasp, clutching Grimmjow to the earth like a falcon with a squirming mouse. A full-toothed smile came from the opposite mask's beak and stabbed a hole into the sand above where his shoulder pressed. Dirt swirled when the head recoiled back, screeching either in disappointment that it'd missed or that its brother moved Grimmjow just as it was about to feed.

The Hollow lifted him into the air again, a fleshy kite brought slowly toward its viperlike alien mouth.

Some small amount of strength given back to him by Urahara allowed Grimmjow to dig his nails deep into the thing's fatty flesh and keep him out of the Hollow's mouth. Heat charged his palm. A small cero blasted the swallowing Hollow square in the mask, throwing Grimmjow away as it screamed. The tongue slacked enough for him to barely smirk when it gripped tighter and electrocuted him, jolts weakening the man until his body limped from paralysis.

Grimmjow was brought into its slick red mouth and swallowed.

" _Getsuga Jujisho_!"

A wide slit through the creature's serpentine neck opened and dropped the contents held within its throat. Ichigo caught Grimmjow midair, unconscious and covered with mucous and garnet spittle. A slice of pressure from Zangetsu's blade knocked the masked twin senseless and he disappeared from its sight.

He brought him away from battle and left him against a large stone, wondering when the man would awake. He was in rough shape and Ichigo checked for a pulse.

He lived, if just barely. Ichigo wondered how much longer this would last . . . how long he and Nel could withstand in a world of monsters, if both survived.

The Hollow roared and Ichigo dove back into the fray. He lopped off the Hollow's scalp and fractured its skull mask, finishing Grimmjow's attack. He forced Zangetsu into its brain and held him there, riding the beast like a mad bull as it fumbled in confusion. He leapt away; it tumbled over on its side with finality, spastic in its last few seconds.

Ichigo sighed a brief breath of relief. That was when the ground shook _again_.

With this lone twinned hunter dead, others hungrier than the last climbed out from beneath the sands like zombies staggering out the crypt. More were entering through the gap in the wall, enticed by the ways battle contoured the wind. Ichigo grimaced and sliced through the air, driving the horde back. _Why_?

Why were they blocking their path to Hueco Mundo?

The Hollow attacks were random. Ichigo hadn't nearly dealt with so many of these beings since the Arrancars who stood with Aizen—hell, he fought more in the world of the living!

Did Yhwach command them?

They were swarming the exit to the outside, darkness permeating the crevasse from Hueco Mundo. Hundreds entered Las Noches, each head jarred in movement like a mutated snowflake. They snarled and sniffed at their meals with hunger and annoyance.

Ichigo looked back at his prodigal tour guide, bloodied and unconscious from his scrapple, creased papers spilling from his pocket. His eyes narrowed.

He knew Grimmjow knew why.

Before another mouth could snap at him the substitute disappeared from its senses, moving high into the air as he scanned their contained world, blade in one hand, the other with Grimmjow hiked against him.

They moved like dinosaurs, in packs, titans large and quick, spilling into the dome. Ichigo saw how they continued to charge even without him present. _Why . . ._ ?

Then it hit him.

No, they weren't blocking the exit, he noticed, they weren't _deliberately_ attacking them.

They were running away from Hueco Mundo!

He drew closer and found a spot to rest, crushed tons of wall creating a quarry for him to leave Grimmjow in as he further investigated.

Still something bothered him.

Conflict washed his face as he gently pulled out the papers Grimmjow had in his jacket, going slowly so he wouldn't startle the _Sexta_ or lose a hand for daring to get so close.

Grimmjow continuously checked something he'd snuck into his pocket while they walked, being subtle about it, but not subtle enough. It was possibly why he kept his distance—while Ichigo had been unconscious during the relocation spell Grimmjow must have coveted something peculiar. He had managed to keep it hidden, but Ichigo needed answers.

The papers came to his hand easily, aged and thin. He began to read pieces of a story, one of a king whose life fell short because of a _beguiling sleep . . . ._

* * *

It was the silhouette of those women that forged the darkness every time he slept. It didn't matter if it was due to slumber or the unconscious wake he held in the opposing world, they would always arrive.

Dark-rimmed eyes and bejeweled undertones dyed their clothes and features. A light-hearted sound sprung from their colored lips with delight. Laughter . . . they were always laughing at him.

In the darkness of his palace he sat and appeared to doze among the shadows, yet their smell made him rise. Pantera had been discarded nearby on its stand, Grimmjow feeling the urge to pick up his familiar quickly.

From the breach in the palace's siding four Amazonian figures stood waiting outside the wall, silhouetted and fierce. He glowered at them.

"What do you girls want?"

The _Tres_ and her women approached him with an offering. The _fraccións_ laughed and were humored by his solitude more than they'd ever been attacking each other as the unruly girls tended to do. The _tres bestias_ were callow and vicious, their echoes loud and repulsive banging off the walls. His throne room was grand, but empty. He heard every irritating vibrato.

It was Halibel who spoke, keeping her firm voice soft. "Come with us, Grimmjow. There's no need for you to remain alone in this tower."

"Aren't you bored being locked up in this cell? Where's that killer everyone feared, _huh_?!" Apache challenged deafeningly loud, causing him to snarl now with aggravation. He didn't move a muscle as he gave them a deadpanned reply.

"No thanks. I'd rather not become one of your whores."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?" Mila Rose and Apache screamed. Sun Sun gave him a dirty glare.

He looked at them from his throne, cheek resting on his fist. "I'm being nice. I have no desire to join you or your escapades. _Now beat it_."

Halibel spoke calmly and put a hand on Apache's shoulder. "Grimmjow, be reasonable. There's no purpose for you to be left alone. What good does it do to be in isolation? You can only reflect on the past for so long."

There was a rumble in the distance like thunder, beyond the wall. The girls stirred, feeling unease.

"I won't be much help to your _cause_ ," he continued without so much as a blink in the direction of the storm. He was worn to rare occurrences in the desert, hardly bothering him in the slightest.

That's when the bomb went off.

The crash was monstrous and hard, hitting the very earth below the sand miles deep. An earthquake shook his palace to its core, the canopy above crumbling fractals on their heads. The girls clung to one another for stability as the world rocked, Halibel taking hold of the wall while Grimmjow grabbed the arms of his throne.

Eventually it stopped to an eerie silence, and the girls looked out from the broken entrance they'd arrived.

His palace was at the southernmost point of Las Noches—the destruction had punctured both sides of the wall straight across from the western tip.

West was several _miles_ away.

Smoke lifting from outside the wall rose blue.

"Should we investigate?" Mila Rose asked cautiously.

"Be on guard," Halibel advised, still waiting for a true reply from the moody _Sexta_. The trio nodded and evaporated.

There were colonies Halibel had been creating for the Arrancars lost without their high leader, and she sympathized with them, for they were truly the ones reborn without future purpose.

She turned back to Grimmjow, unwilling to give up so easily on the wayward _Sexta_. He looked nothing but shadows as he hunched to the side and placed Pantera back on his right. Arrogant and stubborn, if he thought _this_ was what being a king was he had much to learn. They stared each other down several moments, neither giving in.

Apache reappeared from the air. "Halibel!"

"Report."

" _Ah . . ._ " Her look was unsure, shameful. "They look like humans, but different than the _Shinigami_. I'm not sure _what_ they are."

Halibel raised an eyebrow, curious. She crossed forward and Apache disappeared, halting at the frame of crushed pillars. There was a gap in the distance where the wall had fallen, Mila Rose and Sun Sun scouting ahead in Hueco Mundo's terrain.

She returned a look at the brooding Espada, revealing nothing beyond melancholy in her emerald eyes. "I'm coming back. Don't think I'm giving up on you yet."

The problem was Halibel never came back.

Grimmjow waved her away with a shooing gesture, rising again only when it was his turn to be slain.

* * *

Sun Sun was watching the intruders above a dusted ridge when Halibel arrived, the other two _fraccións_ spying to see how the white-garbed creatures moved, shadows twitching around shadows as the dips and twists of the dunes boasted their quick movements.

They fluttered up and out like fledgling cygnets bowed under the strength of a storm. Until the darkest of tar-shaded plots loomed and their bird-like cries rose Halibel understood the ritual's purpose. They were clamoring for some infection unheard of in their land, and it was growing _fast_ , rising out like a colossal blood blister.

Halibel sensed the toxins it distributed and sought the intruders with a full confrontation.

The blister had burst just before she retouched on Hueco Mundo's bleached skin, silencing the hooded cult's commemoration.

All Hollows and Adjuchas would feel his reiatsu out into the farthest depths of their universe.

The enemy's wrath was thick as it struck her, energy virulent and hostile. The figure was taller than she, darker. Hair dark blue-black as a raven's wing. Prominent nose and hard-set facial features crafted from a stone facade. He appeared aged and young, worldly and arrogant, depending on how you looked at him. She knew he sought violence—why else come to a soulless land for dissatisfied beasts and monsters? Set on his shoulders a black cloak balanced the uniformity of his brethren. He came at her as if she weren't there.

"Stop where you are! Who are you?"

One she hadn't noticed before appeared at his immediate right, elven-haired and pale and outwardly passive with prejudice as he eyed the Arrancar.

Opportunity dazzled in the elder's eyes upon sighting the female and with a grin wide enough to split his face in two he called to her booming with glee. " _You_ are the one who will lead us to our retribution!"

Eyes of emerald disagreed. She touched Tiburón.

It was an easy ploy to slay any and all who came to the feeding yard.

One hit and that would be it. She was the strongest. She ruled Hueco Mundo.

She must stop him here.

A flash of _azul_ surged and the land fell into the tide of an ocean. A swell twisted round her, reforming her body to a more potent threat, exposing her form in a way that revealed to the enemy she would hide nothing from him.

A slice cut away her protective shell and Halibel stood in the open, revving her power to such an extreme the point from her arm-blade swirled with mistlike smoke.

It came like a scream, first soft in its early exposure, then ear-piercing as the blue lighting struck her down to oblivion.

All creatures felt the shockwave and turned urgently in direction of its origin, some at a distance so far away it was there and not all the same, lesser Hollows not realizing a true event even occurred.

There was an agonizing defeat, followed by the explosive rumble of another earthquake, aftershocks forcing Las Noches' great stone wall to weaken. _He felt her die_. Grimmjow tore to the opening of his palace in a frenzy.

He looked out from the broken entrance of his throne room and froze. It was a slick wave of dissection taking place, Halibel gone before one could turn to witness any remnant fall back to the sand.

There was only one thing that offset him and again it was that _smell_. Irritatingly strong and pungently sharp to his nose.

The scent wafted to the jaguar's nose, unusual and potent. It had been there before the quartet arrived, and remained still.

The cologne would not leave, a tiny mouse locked in a thick wall. He knew it was there, but he didn't know where _._ It was a haunting smell, diluted and softened as if to make it less noticeable. "What is that?" he questioned aloud, searching over his shoulder for its hidden location.

Grimmjow alone was the only energy in the cold hall.

His eyes beheld nothing but shadows, shadows that were closing in around him, stalking _him_ in turn.

With an electric snap his head flew back, forcing Grimmjow to flop backward clumsy as an infant. A cry escaped his mouth; he felt himself being hauled across the tile, dragged back into the hall with haste across the slick surface, protesting wildly.

A metallic noose choked as it shocked his system, hands clawing at the loop in attempt to relieve the crackle of pain.

They had come from nowhere, from out the shadows, the darkness within his home. Several men in white button-downs and pristine uniforms held him, an aluminum restraint controlling their _animal_ with little trouble. Grimmjow found his footing, gave a shake to the wire leash before they shocked him again.

"My apologies, _Arrancar_ ," said an erotic voice from behind, somewhere in the blackness near his throne. He stalked forward, moving before Grimmjow with sweet pride, smiling greatly at his captured prize. "My name is Quilge Opie. I am the Vandenreich's supervising officer of the Jagged army in honor of his Majesty. We have come to offer you greatness."

Grimmjow snarled viciously, visible white-hot jolts jumping through his _hierro_ into his bloodstream. The collar sent shockwaves to his bones, electrifying his nerves and sending them to spasm erratically. A knee nearly gave way to the floor. Quilge's horn-rimmed spectacles glittered like a falling coin in daylight at Grimmjow's plight.

"Marvelous. Now that we understand one another how about we join forces? Lead you into . . . servitude? Sounds appealing," said Quilge with a laugh.

He was surrounded from all sides, the pole being held by a man from behind, the bastard before him acting as capable leader. Fingers clutched around the hot noose. He eyed them all, looking for an opening.

Grimmjow eyed the creep with venom as he rose. He spat at Quilge's boots, a colorful curse joining the saliva.

With a misfired shot an arrow hit Grimmjow's shoulder, forcing him to be knocked back. " _Ack_!" Blood exploded, the pole of the noose keeping him steady in the hands of the enemy. The _Sexta_ fell to his knees, bowing before the hunting commander in white. The sudden drop caused the _soldat_ holding him to draw slack on the noose—otherwise he would join the Arrancar on the floor.

"You _idiot_!" Quilge snapped to the young subordinate responsible, the boy frightened to have fired so impulsively and frightened of the Hollow's piercing blue eyes. "What are you _doing_?!"

The boy had no proper response other than a mumble of words.

Quilge stole the boy's bow away and punched him square in the face, knocking two teeth and him out instantly. " _Useless_." To his small crowd he announced, "Our Majesty requests _all_ warriors that stand to showcase resistance in any form. Arrancar are plentiful and spontaneous. Do not allow them to coast by no matter their size nor _rank_."

He brought his fist into his palm with force, narrowing his eyes at Grimmjow's semi-unconscious form. There was a tilt to his head, unsure how to describe the withered monster in his report. "If they show _promise_ . . ." Quilge did not finish his sentence, turned and walked away, overseeing the strike from a better height. Smoke rose at an alarming rate, the shouts of his men pillaging the sands a unique song. " _Ah_. Oh, be sure to collect his sword, gentlemen. He won't be any use to us if he can't _release_."

Forcing the _Sexta_ to rise, shackles were brought into the half-light, ready to arrest the creature.

In all his time left alone he had learned a few new tricks he'd been meaning to try. Spared the risk of shock, Grimmjow's nails slashed across the iron pole, leaving one half in the unprotected _soldat's_ hands. His hands became knives of ebony, tapping into Pantera's strength without needing to completely release. Grimmjow snapped the noose from his neck, kicking back another _soldat_ and elbowing one in the throat before he carved a permanent air hole in his jugular.

Grimmjow's swipe at the pole panicked the system, forcing it to explode against his _hierro_. His flesh melted in the shape of a ragged crescent at the left side of his collarbone, but Grimmjow didn't feel its burn when the adrenaline kicked in.

Quilge had been alarmed by the sound of his men falling, but could do nothing to stop the former Espada from evolving.

There was a call and all hell broke loose.

The strength of Grimmjow's explosive energy forced him out of the palace, wind-whipped and sending the supervisor to fly into the half-light.

He dropped to the sand in a heap, unfazed or surprised that the were-demon was standing before him in all its undignified glory, skin patched by a work of strapped armor, sky-colored eyes lifeless as they lusted after his blood.

Quilge enjoyed a challenge and withdrew his sword, lifting off the sand weightless like bird, only instead of successful banter dark lips gagged, hanged like a war criminal. His sword useless struck the sand in vain.

Dangerously Grimmjow tightened his own noose, his tail squeezing enough life out of the _Quincy_ —a type of human he remembered hearing about in Aizen's reports—for him to gasp hopelessly, suffocating under the iron grip of the _Sexta_. " _How does it feel_? To know I can kill you?" He tightened his grip, Quilge unable to breathe. The smile across the beast's face was frightening. Grimmjow loved the feel of death against his skin.

There were shots fired, sliding by Grimmjow's body by only a hair's breadth. He turned to an oncoming militia, firing shot after terrible shot as he swatted them away easily, turned on by the challenge in a way he hadn't felt in _years_.

They wanted their leader. He wanted _blood_. With a perched eyebrow he tossed the Quincy away, leaping into the sea of frightened faces with ecstasy. Many men fell below his claws, slashing their throats and tearing at their flesh easily as he would ripping damp paper. Quincies were human—humans were _soft_.

"Don't let him touch you! Remember that their touch— _agh_!" He talked too much. The army was fierce but weak. None of them had much strength to lend or borrow. These _soldats_ were pawns. The heavy hitters were elsewhere. The dead were numerous, his talons crimsoned, mouth dripping in red.

A shot ripped by, flaring his wild hair in such a way it caused the ends to burn. It just missed his face, cheek marked by blood. Grimmjow looked at the Quincy, balls deep in trouble.

It was the leader, recuperated and accompanied by more men that stood to outmatch the Espada. Now he was getting annoyed.

Grimmjow howled and shook the ground, refusing to back down.

He ripped a cloak with intricate detail from one corpse and placed it round him, using _sonído_ to lunge at the throng so eager to witness his demise.

* * *

 **Let's just say I've been listening to a lot of 80s rock, hence the inspired chapter title (also if you do a comparison photo of ch 625's title page and Billy Idol's greatest hits album….you'll figure it out lol.) Comments and critiques are welcome! Remember to +Fav and +follow!**


	14. Part XIII

**Welcome back! Another chapter after a few months, but though its shorter it took longer to get correct, i.e. placing set-up for later chapters. As always, enjoy!**

* * *

 _Stars Align_

"Raaaaa- _ah_!"

Nelliel cracked her weapon against the Hollow's mask like a baseball player hitting a grand slam. Her attack was fierce, hair flying as she spun around and added a violent kick to its face, puncturing the mask with her entire foot. A final stab into its jugular made it pause, dying once she pulled it out.

She gasped for breath that eluded her. It was her final opponent in a field of bodies, the Hollows targeting Orihime one after the other.

Nel tossed aside her makeshift weapon, a shiv made of hard-pressed bone-white shale. She said eventually, winded, " _All clear_."

The Santen Kesshun lifted and dispersed, the young woman lodged in the center of her second shield, Sôten Kisshun attempting to continue the treatment of her electrocuted body. She looked barely any better, the wound on her abdomen looking nearly ready for surgery. Her black eye appeared less puffed but that was it.

"Nel, you must rest! At least long enough to get your energy back!"

"More Hollows are coming," she warned, ignoring her friend's plea. "I don't wish to fight them but until I can carry you again you _must_ heal _faster_!"

Her quick temper gave Orihime a scalding sensation but she pushed it aside and tried another countless time to make her magic work. She understood Nel's concern, yet it didn't lessen her own. Nel had a simple cut down the outside of her thigh, a gash on her flank which split the fabric wider. Scrapes and rough bruises were slapped to parts of her body like stickers. The armor plating at her shoulders had been roughed up, dented by the endless beatings. But she would have no help until Orihime was cured, essentially.

It reminded her a bit of Grimmjow's stalwartness of ignoring the obvious when there were other challenges at hand, wondering how alike the two Espadas actually were as Nel's shadow crept back when the body of another monster challenged her.

The tri-shield fell down and covered Orihime, keeping her out of harm's way. She saw Nel sway but steadied herself nearly as quick. Nel launched herself at the oncoming yellow-green armored Hollow and did a somersault over its head, delivering a kick in the crick of its neck as gravity pulled her down. Heels landed on its humped back, avoiding the swipe of an Ankylosaurus-like tail with skills of a girl playing double Dutch. It bellowed and hustled about, trying to evade and attack when Nel kissed its skin. Her reflexes were on par, Orihime watching Nel's mêlée as if watching a workout video—all action, no stops, knees bent, _jump_!

Nel squeezed its head between her hands as she dropped and impressively managed to flip the beast over, wrestling with the garbage until it gave in. Some miracle drove it away, tail tucked in its legs as it galloped off.

At this her strong form weakened—Nel finally collapsed to the sand. Orihime broke from her cover long enough to race at her side. Nel was sweating, breath short and blood oozing from the unattended sores. Orihime grabbed her hand and made Nelliel follow her back into the safety of her shield. The Hollows might not spot them as easily if they tucked themselves into the jutted outcropping, a snug cove fitting both easily.

"I may not be able to heal myself, but please let me heal you. Truly you've done more than enough for me, Nel- _chan_ ," Orihime adding the honorific tenderly. Nel remained silent. It was another thing Orihime noticed—Nel's charm for cool was fading. The gentle, watchful mother figure she could be looked _empty_ , drained of hope as she looked off to the desert. "Nel?"

"By being in Las Noches I should be getting stronger. The reishi in the atmosphere should be restoring my strength." She looked at her weathered palm, the twisted bracelet of Aries Urahara had given her so as to not be a burdensome child. "But I'm faltering. I've never felt weaker. Yhwach did more damage than I realized . . ."

The shield closed around them and Orihime's power began to warm her. Nel closed her eyes while just for a minute, just so she could _rest . . ._

 _A thunderbolt set the sands on fire, blazing blue._

She saw it in her mind's eye, that horrible night when they arrived.

There was a muddle of housing Lady Halibel had christened for the Arrancars to live amongst, many hundreds created as Lord Aizen's foot soldiers—experimental distractions from the real threat, the _numeros_ and Espadas. Some lived within the walls of Las Noches, many outside in the pitch-darkness of the cleft moon, the Three Brothers among them.

They dwelled in a hut at the edge of the gathering, tied together with garments of the fallen Espada. Reeds sprout at the entrance to their plot, small things Dondochakka stuck into the ground so Nel would have something pretty to look at. Her boys would be the equivalent to merry maids given the opportunity. Nel however enjoyed disrupting their daily housekeeping rituals with overzealous amusements.

She had only wanted to play a game, another round of _endless tag_ to pass the infinite time they had in Hueco Mundo.

A hard rumble and shake dipped and bowed the sands as the _fraccións_ chased her, an enormous force slamming itself into Nel. Tears came to her eyes from the pressure, her small body unable to handle such a fierce and violent reiatsu.

Chaos erupted at once—her world began to crumble as quickly as they'd run outside for fun.

Untalented Arrancar were targets for their butchery; Halibel's loss lent to the destruction of her home, engulfed by blue fire. Lesser Hollows raced around and fled quickly as they could, some taking up the task to attack the coup, Dondochakka being lost in the stampede. Arrows of fire came at them left and right. Screams from the impaled only satisfied the enemy more.

Pesche threw Nel over his shoulder and ran to keep her safe. So many were being killed their night vision was drenched in red. Nel kept her eyes shut from fear, trembling against his bony armor. Where he ran she didn't know. Hueco Mundo's expanse lasted for eternity.

A sliver came at their right—

Pesche was thrown across the plain, sword lost from his grip as he bounced off a white tree.

Nel was thrown and tripped into a sand dune, tumbling in small somersaults until she plopped on her belly at the very bottom. Disoriented, she attempted to get up but was kicked by a heavy boot.

Looking over her shoulder, round silver goggles hid any emotion or regard to the little one's situation. The shadow looming over her reminded Nel of Nnoitora's mercilessness, but without the leer. A blank mask covered his features and suffocated any humanity left within.

Nel choked a cry as the man aimed his bow to kill her.

The sand gasped with impossible suddenness—air tunneled past and around her body and only stopped when a red-smattered knife shot through the soldat's body, he gagging from shock. Little Nelliel held witness to the bizarre incident soundlessly. The weapon twisted and retracted from the spot as fast as it'd punctured, blood erupting irregularly as his heart continued to pump. With charcoal and flame-licked hands the beast snapped the soldat's neck in a ruthless twist, vertebrae popping as he fell dead.

Nel could only stare at her savior with an open mouth.

He was cloaked in a fine garment, the enemy's five-pronged symbol upon his back, only ruined by ruby prints glistening along the edge. It told the story of a massacre, feathery brushstrokes detailing his gruesome work. Even without the hood lowered, the werecat she'd once seen fight Ichigo gazed upon her with extremely blue eyes, so bright they looked as if lights glowed within and took leverage of his soul. Sharp and narrow, he observed the child questioning why he'd saved her.

As Pantera, Grimmjow took stock of his body and hauled the Quincy away from the child, tossed the cadaver into another ravine. There was a blast that discolored the sky, a cero expelling much of the unseen area.

Nel scrambled out the dune to catch the ex-Espada and found he had obliterated the body, ash floating down like soft flakes. Grimmjow sniffed but said nothing.

" _Master Nel_!"

Pesche reappeared by her side, asking if Nel was alright or hurt, hands covering her shoulders protectively against their new blue-haired adversary.

Grimmjow eyed her buglike companion with a dissatisfied frown, unimpressed by the guard dog approach Pesche was attempting. He was shaking from being so close to the _Sexta_. Grimmjow turned and walked away, remaining in _resurrección_.

Nel gasped and called after him. "Wait! Where're you going?!"

"What does it matter? You're safe. I saved you from that creep, didn't I?" His tail curled beneath the cloak as he stalked back toward Las Noches, ready to kill other fodder that got in his way.

Nel broke from Pesche's grasp and chased after him. " _Wait_!"

" _Aah_! Master Nel!" And Pesche also ran.

Grimmjow would have none of her nonsense. "You helped me. I saved you. We're _even_." He was moving faster and Nel hopped quicker.

" _No_! We're not safe! We'll never be!" With her super-speed she clutched the fabric in a small fist before he could get away. The tug back knocked his hood off, hissing at her with angled fangs. She began to cry, because she did not know how else to explain her distraught. "They destroyed my home! They killed all those Arrancar!"

Grimmjow tore the cloak from her hand and she fell behind soaked in sorrow. "Stop shedding tears for the dead. Anguish won't keep you alive by any rate. Your tears have no effect on me, brat."

Nel sniffed and wiped her large eyes. She stared up at the beast's wild mane and pleaded.

" _Please_! We need to find Itsugo! He's the only one who can help us!"

He bristled at the name. " _Kurosaki_?!"

" _Please_! _Please please_ . . . They _hurt_ Lady Halibel! We need his help! _Please_ _help me find him_ . . . !" She sobbed the only way a child could. Pesche was there and pat her back in effort to calm her, knowing it would do no good. Worry controlled the _fracción_ , unnerved that this devilish Espada might turn even if he'd saved Nel.

There was a hard frown on Grimmjow's face as the markings appeared tribal and exotic under the bright curve of eternal moon. The idea disgusted him. They'd killed Halibel with one blow. They would all be dead if these humans were as strong as they truly felt, even at such a distance . . .

Nel wept in her hands, wiping her nose in her elbow, on her sleeve. If Grimmjow refused, there would truly be no hope for Hueco Mundo. The way all other Espada died in the past was _nothing_ compared to the evil beginning to slaughter all wearing a mask in this world.

Nel thought she saw a shadow ripple amongst the creased waves of white weathered sand, pale and slow as its lurch crept down a ridge. Then something else. Not much sparkled in the badlands; this was something altogether different. The metallic sheen glittered with opal and rubies, attained at the top of his crown. It was a silent figure, an old skeletal spirit of lore. It stretched out a mummified arm and seemed to call for her across the sand. _To follow_ , was the idea in her mind.

Through watery eyes Nel put out her hands as if pleading for time to spare them. Grimmjow and Pesche noticed nothing.

 _El rey P_ _álido_ , the pale king, watching without eyes the damage wrought upon the once-Arrancar. It watched her struggle and waited, purple clouds gathering from the continuation of the Quincies damaging storm. An open grin of teeth and jaw mouthed, _Soon . . . soon_.

One of them at last noticed.

" _Nel_?"

Whose voice was that?

Nel swung out her arm as if she'd been using Gamuza to direct her flow of energy, or to announce another oncoming threat.

Perplexed with palms still open Orihime looked in the direction of Nel's unconscious movement.

Sand speckled like quail eggs crowded the horizon for miles. Head lolling on her shoulder and hand outstretched, Orihime saw no one approach and wondered curiously what Nelliel's mind came up with as she dreamt.


	15. Part XIV

**It's been hard to continue writing anything. Everything has been difficult since June. Last I really worked on this story was the day before my mother unexpectedly passed away, and I've barely found words to write or a story to tell. I had to reread _Collapse_ to remember what I was writing about. I've only really picked it back up now, six months later. This chapter I found tricky to write (before my life literally collapsed) yet ironically had two titles in the works. The chapter itself has no special meaning for me, just another part to move us forward. The title is more or less a plea for life. **

* * *

_Mercy_

" _It was said she came to those who called for her, desperate in their ways to find solace._

 _She was swift in her ways, haunting a world unwilling to accept her._

 _When she came at a halt that was when those chasing their desires found her._

" _Three diamonds at her breast, swaddled by shawls of red blood,_

 _She would grant any wish,_

 _So long as those willing behest one of her own._

 _The more desires she granted the deeper her influence became._

" _One day, Death came across her vivid robe, found her feeding on the remainder of an exchange._

"' _You are lost, young ghost. You are hollow from eating too many of these withered souls._ '

 _The ghoul's eyes winked with carnal taste._

"' _What does one of an All-Seer request when He knows all knowledge?_ ' _she inquired._

' _A place of peace,_ ' _Death responded._ ' _An offering meant something offered in return. An offer of your freedom from purgatory. Release these souls and I will grant you a rightful wish of your very own._ '

 _From there he divided the world by six and granted her a space of her own . . ._ "

Ichigo poured over the words as if they'd click and make the world right once more. Every detail was accounted for—any hint to show or prove there was still hope they could stop Yhwach . . . _No . . . would stop him_.

The torn leaflets consisted of what appeared to be poetry, some woodblock illustrations, and what might have been a rough layout for a treasure map.

The few sketches held impressive detail, representing monsters from around the globe. Wild fauns holding knives poised in mid-fight; a coiled serpent swallowing its tail whole; a dybbuk smothered atop its human host.

What impressed Ichigo was the diversity of language each page held. Speech shook from Voodoo magick formed in the Caribbean to spells told by the Salem witches. European dragons astride wiccans bellowed their tales with drunken murmur. Pierced djinns mouthed curses as they were forced back into their tight cages for another millennia.

His twelve-page collection recounted two individual stories, double-sided and seemingly complete. But they were out of order and had no page numbers to sequence the original story.

They also weren't Japanese _kana_ of any sort. No matter the tongue Ichigo read each story clearly.

He flipped over the last page.

A plaque of devilish design titled _The Swift_ in sharp calligraphy had been stenciled into the framed border of the image, a drawing of what looked like Little Red Riding Hood kneeling over a fallen body, her cloak extending past the window, eyes locked on the viewer outside the frame. It was an eerie image, her wondering face covered in hungry smudges, hands gloved by darker dye. Ichigo felt his adrenaline rush the longer he spent staring back. It was a feeling of fear, as if he'd seen those glowing eyes before.

Ichigo shot a look up.

There was something beyond his vision, but not there. A shimmer in the wasteland overcome in the midst of rancor by galloping beasts and screaming yowls.

He turned back to the first story he'd read, _The Beguiled Sleep_. It was not unlike the true tale they were living in now.

As the story went, a king was bewitched into slumber for hundreds of years by the king's aide, a sorcerer trained in the dark arts.

Without a single heir, the mage charmed the people into deliberation for the succession of a new ruler. With the crown upon his head, he enchanted the queen and produced an heir of his own.

After many blissful years, the sorcerer went out riding with his son in the forest. It was here the prince stumbled upon the wizard's lair, discovering the secret of the slumbering king. In a flash of power, the sorcerer cursed his bastard son as he fell into a ravine, falling to his death silently. It was a somber song told throughout the kingdom, the accidental loss of the prince. The queen soon fell ill and died in her grieving. The people were distraught and ran amok in their weeping. The sorcerer knew not what to do. His charms were flawless but his heart was empty. He cared little for the kingdom he'd coveted for so long.

After several dark years it was told a white knight rode through the forest toward the castle. It was the sorcerer himself who came straight to the gates.

" _Hark! Who art thou? Reveal thy mask_!"

With his armor removed the wizard shook with fright. His son, the murdered prince, stood just across from him. He'd hardly aged and was built like many of the king's dragon slayers.

" _Father, I know the truth about the king. Undo your spell and free us all from your influence_."

With a clap of his hands, the wizard withdrew a staff crowned by a crystal eye.

" _I've seen all things to come. I saw this day in my foresight when I lost you over that ravine. Let's see how sharp your aim is with that_ _bow . ._."

A groan came from behind, low at first, then he called out louder, "How long was I out?"

Grimmjow was butted against a rocky edge, broken shale and gravel digging into his spine uncomfortably. He pushed himself upright and felt nauseous. He hadn't felt this woozy since Nnoitora shoved him aside with his cleaver. With Askin at least he'd been out cold.

"Long enough," said Ichigo. "That Hollow electrocuted you into unconsciousness. Hollows keep running through the break in massive droves. Thousands are migrating inside Las Noches."

The _Sexta_ groaned louder, "They're running toward the center in an attempt to find shelter." He rubbed his face with the heels of his palms, pushing against the hard structure of his face, the lack of mask on his flesh. He muttered, "As if the walls are going to protect them."

It took a second, but Grimmjow saw why Kurosaki dared show his back, half-gasping—"Where did you get those?!"

"They were on the ground," Ichigo lied. "You were unconscious."

 _Hell if that made any difference!_

Grimmjow snatched the pages from Ichigo's hand, livid. "No need to steal a man's belongings now," he bit evenly.

Back into his breast pocket they went.

He peered down the shale face, watching humped and scaled creatures jostle their way over the sand. "You're gonna get us through the wall. Your shun-po oughta do."

"Why do we want to go outside the wall?"

"Still waiting for your princess to show up? Nelliel is keeping her company, don't you fret. Keep it in your pants, Kurosaki."

A momentary rouge patted Ichigo's cheeks, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

A small smirk grazed the _Sexta's_ mouth. He said, "There's something I need beyond the wall." And a fist balled Ichigo's _shihakusho_ , rising him on his toes. "You're gonna get me out there."

" _No_."

A fist came flying at his head, Grimmjow attempting to strike Ichigo again. He caught the punch in his palm, Grimmjow's ever-blue eyes locked on his own, a crazed smile widening the more Ichigo resisted. "I don't want to fight you!"

" _Hah_! That makes one of us!"

"Why do we want to go outside the wall?!" Ichigo repeated, expecting to soon force the answer out of him.

Grimmjow's mouth turned into a bothered frown, to which his eyes mimicked his displeasure. "She told me to."

"Who, Nel?"

" _Please_ , as if that woman could make me do anything," Grimmjow snorted.

"Then _who_?!"

"Don't you think it's strange out of all the places he could've built Las Noches he chose here in particular? Not Barragan's temple or the caves and dens of the gillians?"

Ichigo blinked in total confusion. "What?"

"That location where we were, it's the absolute center of Las Noches. Might even be the center of Hueco Mundo in its entirety. It's called _Lhasa_ , the place of the Gods. Lhasa is sacred to us higher-class Hollows. So Aizen "hid" it and built a sanctuary," Grimmjow gestured towards the wall, "to keep it preserved. So he could harness all of this world's power when the time came."

Grimmjow withdrew and watched the madness of Hollows below, the predator's hunger spiking from their reeling fear.

"Except _He_ knows that place has power. Yhwach is coming for it."

Ichigo heard the worry in his voice. If _Grimmjow_ was afraid of what would happen . . . .

Ichigo eyed the sketch caught in his grip. He had no knack for sleight of hand but Grimmjow hadn't snatched the image of _The Swift_. The shivers the girl gave him were stronger than before. Maybe he let him keep it? _Why do you have these pages?_ he wondered.

Ichigo tucked the leaf into his pocket. "If Lhasa is hidden how did you find it?"

His focus didn't waver off the creatures, replying, "It called to me. She knew what I sought and led me straight to it."

"And what _are_ you looking for, Grimmjow?"

There was no warning. Grimmjow leapt from their rocky nest and crashed into the desert, slicing Hollows left and right with Pantera. That unprompted decision coaxed the _Shinigami_ into following him out in the open, speeding up his strikes and gaining ground near the corroded arc.

Heavy reiatsu poured out of him, unlike his own faltering spiritual essence. A hot angry wind kept the fleeing beasts of Hueco Mundo away from him, and those too close were eliminated, leaving a dodgy path for the teenager to follow. It was borrowed power from an unknown source, hitting Ichigo like a percolating scent.

Grimmjow tossed Pantera aside and brought his hands together, a flare igniting within his palms. A _cero_ electrified the air and hit flush with the wall's edge, Hollows screaming as their saggy flesh was abolished, ashen bodies mummified and forced to rest in the sand.

Ichigo felt anguish over the unwarranted murder of so many frightened creatures. Their souls burned in the hellfire Grimmjow released, none to be saved in the next life. And somehow he felt this graveyard was just to show off.

But their exit was finally clear, darkness crawling out the arc and its shadow gripping the sides of the wall.

Ichigo blanched at what they would find out there. Certainly not the same landscape he'd seen when he'd come to rescue Inoue.

The _Sexta_ gave Ichigo a steely eyed glare. "I'm not gonna tell you what I'm looking for. It's the same thing I was looking for when we started our trip. Only there's another piece I need." He yanked Pantera out of a cooked flank and sniffed, sank the blade into its sheath. He added one more thing, just to stimulate the brat.

"You wanna know the truth about Urahara's endgame?"

* * *

Orihime began to notice a pattern on Nel's face, discrete and light, a faint scatter of conspicuous dots across her nose and cheeks. Freckles were forming beneath the hue. Even with her bruised eye she wondered if she was only seeing things.

She had healed Nel to her best capabilities, repaired her torn clothes and armor with Sôten Kisshun. Still she was lost in slumber, Orihime unsure when she'd awake.

More and more Hollows approached and scurried past their cubbyhole, avoiding the hidden nexus by going around the rock formation at the angles of a wide V. How they ignored the stench of human blood was either inconceivable ignorance or sheer luck. Hundreds damaged their surroundings, the tide of rumbling hooves and claws shaking heavy debris on their heads, their haven somehow withstanding.

It made it hard for the teen to concentrate, but if she could survive beatings and death threats when restoring Grimmjow's arm several years back she surely could work under less stressful situations.

One Hollow launched itself against the rock clumsily, causing the whole shelter to buckle. Orihime bit her lip to stifle the oncoming anxiety she felt.

" _El_ _rey P_ _álido_ ," Nel moaned. She began to speak sluggishly in a foreign tongue, much of it unintelligible. " _Mi libro ._ . . _El_ _rey P_ _álido_ . . . _he's coming_. _Pesche_ , _Dondochakka . ._." Her eyes opened and she gasped. "The book!"

She felt herself over and began to panic. It wasn't there! Her wild eyes shot past the shield and saw movement in the distance, discarded and sunken half deep into sand. She broke through the shield and dashed light speed cross the sandy gap.

" _Ah_! Nel, wait!"

Lizardlike things hissed with fangs and mouths large enough to gobble small creatures attacked as Nel narrowly passed them. Tyrannic beasts ran toward her as fast as she mimicked their steps. She dodged with swiftness and when she saw the opportunity ran up between the outer legs of two separate galloping Hollows, achieving parkour and bounced off one's back into the air.

Her landing created a deep crater to which several Hollows fell into. Another launch put her back in the air, floating momentarily until she spied the sinking pages.

Nel grabbed it in an instant, oblivious to the fact she was about to be crushed by a titan.

" _Shiten Kôshun_!"

The Hollow's foot exploded off Orihime's tri-shield and bellowed in pain. It fled with its heel bleeding, giant red prints in the sand as it dashed away.

Orihime pressed her hands outward and pushed to create a giant Sôten Kisshun for protection, grimacing in pain as the gash on her side slowly split back open like the worn seams in a gown. The rounded dome might keep the fledglings away, Orihime did more self-harm as hot blood reemerged. She felt the pressure and bump from every clumsy hit the Hollows made as they ran into, and were deflected, by her cocoon. She was weak and exhausted. A smidge irritated too, which rarely—if ever—happened.

Nel held the item to her chest like a newborn babe, too precious and important to keep her aware of her surroundings. Nel had acted like a true _kamikaze_. Orihime felt it was her turn to scold . . . gently.

"Why did you do that? You could have gotten yourself killed, Nel!"

"This book is the key to stopping Yhwach. Keeping _this_ protected is much more important than my life."

Orihime blinked dumbfounded. "What?"

Nel felt a presence far away and glanced in its direction.

Outside the golden glow of the Sôten Kisshun the same dreamy shadow lurked in the distance, a smoky ring against bone white sand.

The king watched with empty eyes. Nel didn't know why.

" _Barragan_ ," she quietly muttered.

He disappeared on the wind quick as he'd arrived. Such a mysterious being.

Nel pouted at the query why this _Hollow King_ had sought her out _twice_.

Her eyes fell back on the book.

Replaying the flicker of shadows on the ruin walls which enveloped her memory, she was back in a dream momentarily, a haggard image of the _Sexta_ sitting across from her. It hardly felt like a time from so long ago.

A fire was set between the four. He was seething, pissed to be stuck in a bind; Pesche trembled on Nel's right, Dondochakka on her left rattled, her pathetic _fraccións_ enacted as bodyguards.

" _I'm forced to pay a debt to you now_ ," his growling voice said.

The little girl gave a small shrug. " _If you must. But not right now_." Grimmjow scoffed. There was a passing between the two fallen Espada, Nel sensing something unsettling and ominous within her belly.

" _Something tells Nel there's gonna be trouble in the future. Nel feels it_."

He dismissed the child with a rough laugh, waving her and her men out the collapsed temple. Nel saw the sad look she had given Grimmjow as they motioned to leave, the light aura leaving him in the remnants of his toppled palace. He gripped the spot Nnoitora's cleaver sliced into. It no longer bled nor was life threatening. However, she could tell by the way his body grew still it had been a personal defeat. War had ravaged his body to its limit. For now it seemed he'd remain that way, least until the next conflict emerged.

Nel opened to the _Children of Fortune_ and wondered where her partner wandered. She mouthed a quiet prayer which bordered the ninth tale, whispering leniency for her friends' survival in this dark time. Although she didn't understand what the prayer actually stated, or if Grimmjow and Ichigo actually lived, Nel hoped one of the gods within the remaining four realms listened.

She looked up, finding the sealed star hanging on the false sky.

"Please find what we're looking for, Grimmjow."

* * *

 **Comments are really appreciated at this time. Please share with others if you've enjoyed reading this far. With how everything has gone, not to mention holiday grief, words of encouragement are the best gifts this Christmas.**


	16. Part XV

_Endgame_

The air cooled significantly, gradually chilling the _Sexta_.

It was a difference between dimensions beneath the wall. The amorphous trail neither twisted nor forked. Ichigo had been through the wall in the past and felt now as if it'd never end. The cero's heat had generated an erotic glow as the molten rock somehow stayed hot in the frigid environment. A lantern-like glow tangled in their hair, entranced colors of a wild nightclub as the beat of footsteps changed the burgundy hues from soft to strong.

His hot breath on the air appeared like a poltergeist attempting to remove itself from his lungs. Ichigo crossed his arms to stave the chill falling down his back.

The Hollows no longer stampeded toward them, many stirred into the desert like a great mixture of soup, their spare heads and plump bodies hearty food to be devoured by some much greater, horrifying creature.

The passageway was a delay of pacifism for the coming violence of the remaining days. As much as this was, it was almost intoxicating walking so close to a creature of war. Ichigo's morose icon led him like a hound, his broad tenacity keeping him just _there_ so he would willingly continue to follow. It felt like a _grim_ procession as he was escorted to the other side of Las Noches.

Grimmjow had spoken of Urahara's "endgame." Whatever that may be. Time and time before the lowly shop keeper raked the coals to his preference. The Espadas would keep up the heat. Would _he_ be the one to snuff it out?

His breath came out in white twists. They were the only ghosts Ichigo had seen in ages, not counting the charging Hollows or his own internal demon . . .

He hadn't heard any whispers since Zangetsu had been reconfigured. Yet even as he thought this while they trekked through the underside of purgatory a sneaking voice hissed.

 _I don't understand, Ichigo. Why don't you just kill him? He's already weak from Yhwach's influence._

His brows furrowed, eyes darting to the side. _No, it would be a waste. Killing him would settle nothing._

 _C'mon, he's leading you on a goose chase. You know it's better to rid the world of this enemy._

 _He_ isn't _my enemy right now. Grimmjow is the only one who knows what's going on._

 _Hmph._ Ichigo imagined his paler half rolling his eyes.

Zangetsu was equally curious to where they were going. He was only observing, acting as scout for the silent old man. Ichigo didn't react, merely listened. With _this_ half's reputation Ichigo reminded himself that _he_ was the one in control. He was the spirit that dwelled within the blades.

Suddenly his drifting look sparked with a golden ember, seeing something which couldn't have been.

As Grimmjow walked, a slice to the air across his back revealed a hand which gestured Ichigo to take hold. The _Sexta_ seemed not to notice as he moved, but as Ichigo stared at it, refusing to step closer, the hand reached out and grabbed his shihakusho and pulled him through.

That's when the teen started to hear _His_ voice, rumbling louder than thunder in the sky.

Ichigo turned and there _He_ sat, multiple bodies stripped and crucified on either side of His throne, a large grin coasting ear to ear.

The second hand of a giant intangible clock ticked, forcing Ichigo to look up.

A circular gate with Apollo's emblem moved in bits, slowly shucking aside the doors which kept the horrors within.

 _I'm waiting for you Ichigo. Join me before you perish, hm_?

A haze of drug-induced colors formed within the space, smoky and boiling. Sounds and screams unlike any he had heard before made Ichigo clap his hands over his ears, fearing they would rupture. Creeping calls cried out to the _Shinigami_ , begging for him to help and liberate their souls. Nails scratched and fists beat the gate's ill command to release them. Their banter was furious as it was guttural. The vibrations shook frescos from the ceiling, becoming more and more violently desperate to break the seal. Blood dropped from the cracks in the seal, spelling RAGNAROK across the tile. And it was drawing closer each moment.

An eye large enough to be a god's blinked at Ichigo from the floor, rooting him to the spot out of fear.

The Quincy seal illuminated the entire temple, cultivating a last soul before the true demons were released—

 _Don't let my offer go to waste._

—Pain shot through him, so much _pain_. Ichigo hit his head against the frozen magma and slumped to the floor. He groaned, the familiar color of his eyes returning.

His assailant stood over him, hands deep in his pockets and a frustrated scowl. His own eyes glowed in the bare light, electric blue illuminated with deep hunger. "I could've kicked you in the balls, y'know. C'mon, we're almost at the end."

Ichigo touched the center of his chest, panting.

Zangetsu was soundless at the wake of true horror. Not only did neither respond back, Ichigo felt an absence from the blades, empty despite a physical weapon.

Was that what it felt like? Having your soul ripped in half?

 _He left an imprint on me_.

Grimmjow squat down before him, reminding Ichigo of something his father might have done when he was a child, trying to get a better understanding at his level.

The _Sexta_ grabbed his chin and turned it as if looking at the new welt he'd made. There was a certain look in the kid's eyes. An omen of death.

"What did you see."

There was no getting around that statement because Grimmjow _knew_ something happened. His head was tilted in curiosity; a look of _no bullshit_ bore straight into him.

Ichigo swallowed. " _Nothing good_."

" _Hm_. Urahara said you'd be some kind of conduit to the holy king."

That alarmed Ichigo. "What did he say?"

"The Candyman said you're a 'rarity amongst all creatures, living and dead.'" Grimmjow snorted at the words. "Some type of lynchpin extending into all six realms. The blood running in your veins has something to do with it."

A sour smile formed on Ichigo's face. "A lynchpin, huh?"

"His words, not mine."

Grimmjow stood and the _Shinigami_ mirrored his movement. "But I don't know if what I saw was even REAL. It could have been a hallucination. A mirage!"

"We haven't made it to the desert yet, moron." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "There ain't mirages in the dark."

"You said you and Nel were my guard dogs, right?"

That stopped the _Sexta_ short, pissed at hearing that.

With Ichigo now riled up the devil in his eyes came out to play. "This whole time I thought by getting stronger with the Zero squad I might stand a chance, except all Yhwach's done is blow me off. If Yhwach can't be bothered with me, then why does Mr. Urahara want you protecting me?" Their eyes locked briefly, the dark ones he knew Grimmjow despised suggesting threats. "Mr. Urahara is using me as a decoy to figure out a better way to kill him. Isn't he?"

His looming partner said nothing. His eyes strained to see Kurosaki in the dimness, yet saw a battered solider on the verge of madness.

"Was _that_ your mission?"

"I don't think we _can_ kill him, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said, ignoring the last question. "And I'm being honest. That devil gains more power each night. Whatever Bach said in _here_ ," Grimmjow tapped his temple with a finger, "doesn't matter. And stop asking questions. It's getting _old_."

He swung out his palm and a pinpoint glowed at the far end of the tunnel. "Keep in mind He _didn't_ spit your soul in half. It just feels that way."

A multitude of shimmers criss crossed over their bodies when they found the end of the tunnel. Grimmjow passed through the veil without hesitation, a sensation of cobwebs and grossly sticking threads on his skin.

Beyond the wall made the _Shinigami_ half-gasp, gathering an open expression of shock from the _Sexta_.

If that same snow globe shaped the arc in the stone it clearly had smashed and disposed its glittering matter on everything out here.

It was a complete whiteout.

The dunes were covered by a heavy frost as far their eyes could see, wind burning their faces as it pummeled flakes upon silver flakes. The clouds swirled with opaque spores, catching the light in such ways they glowed as if set afire. Rocks were pushed and moved about on the sand like schooners at sea, pulled and tugged by an unknown magnetic charge. The blizzard had overtaken Hueco Mundo—no wonder the tunnel was so cold! Why the Hollows fled inside Las Noches' fallen estate no longer was a mystery either.

" _What the hell is this_?!" Grimmjow asked bluntly, as if never seeing such a thing in his life.

The dazzle shifted from an unbearable storm to light drift abruptly, Grimmjow looking at the world harassed and bewildered.

Ichigo was surprised. "You've never seen snow before?" He stopped, rephrased it. "It's never snowed here before?"

" _Never_."

He held out a hand to the sky, catching snowflakes on his palm.

Grimmjow eyed the melting bunch with scorn. "He's begun changing the world, turning it into his own." Grimmjow's nose wrinkled with irritation. This unusual land smelled sweet, a creamy powder keg of vanilla ripple. " _Yech_."

Ichigo cast his gaze around and was thrown by the oddity. The outer wall itself was being corroded by snow, trying to snuff out Aizen's boundary.

There was a different chill out here than inside the tunnel, more like a shuddering breath in the grip of death.

And out here in the badlands day shouldn't exist. Trickling light from a similar sun disguised itself behind the crescent moon; a cool patchwork of blue-gray appeared when the clouds permitted it.

As artificial as the day had been _inside_ , it was just as fake beyond.

Ichigo tried once more to feel his soul's wavelength within the blades, feeling for the old man, the pale replicate. No response answered.

He may not have sensed Nel or Inoue either—an inkling suspicion told him they were somewhere _here_. And if Grimmjow lead him any farther away from that _feeling_ , that small flame would vanish indefinitely.

"Where do we go next?" the teen asked, hoping it wouldn't be much farther.

Grimmjow cracked his knuckles and had an itching smile, adoring the challenge ahead of him.

" _To find our fortunes_."

* * *

 **Anyone get the sun gate reference? ;-) A shorter chapter BUT! this had to be ready! In honor of my 2 year anniversary! WOW! I didn't expect it to take two years to get here, nor did I think _Bleach_ would have ended nearly 2 years ago either (whoops). things will start to tie together. soon. Appreciate your feedback.**


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